Harry Potter And The MiddleEarthians
by Paige Darke
Summary: Kayli's back. Well, she never really left. What happens when you mix an Elf, a confused human girl, a castleful of wizard students, and a war against a Dark Lord? The usual. Sequel to EHMSOH! Crossover with HP.
1. A Strange New World

Note to self - never, ever play around with obvious magickal item, for obvious reasons. Usually ends in raging headache and extreme disorientation.

Of course, this is my first experience with an obviously magic object, excluding the palantir, unless you count Elves, you are obviously magickal but not objects. Legolas would kill me for that thought, so, moving on.

I crack my eyes open and am immediately assaulted by obnoxiously bright light. I squeeze them back shut and concentrate on dulling the pain in my head. It's not working. Concentrating on it just makes me realize how much it really freaking hurts.

"Now, now, girl, don't be daft. You need to open your eyes at some point, you know."

Oh, yeah? Fucking watch me keep them closed, lady. And who uses a word like daft, anyway?

"No reason to be rude," the voice sniffs, and I realize I said it out loud. Ooops.

"Sorry," I croak, and crack one eye open. "Why is it so fucking bright in here?"

The voice sniffs again. "The curtains are open," The Voice says shortly. "And please watch your language. This is a SCHOOL, after all."

Both of my eyes pop open at that and I sit up so fast my head turns completely around and explodes. Metaphorically speaking. I hang my head over the edge of the bed until I'm sure I'm not going ot throw up, then sit back up - slower this time - and get a good look at the woman who I'd been speaking to. And stop. And stare.

She's wearing flowing robes, dark red, with an apron and a wimple. She looks like a nun from the freaking crusade era. I close my head, shake my eyes, and try to get over it.

That came out wrong. I meant I closed my eyes and shook my head. But whatever I did, when I look again, she's still there, looking at me like I've grown a second head. She shakes her own head, wimple and all, and shoves a cup full of steamy liquid at me. I stare at it, like I expect IT to grow a second head, then stare back at her. "What the hell is this?"

She mutters something about wishing it were spider venom, which I think is a little harsh, then says "It's called Skele-Gro. It's your second dose, meaning all of your bones should have grown back by morning. There will be some...discomfort, so I'll give you a sleeping draught when you're done."

Discomfort? Why does she say 'discomfort' like it means 'great big freaking pain that makes you wish you were dead'?

And what the hell does she mean, grown back? I have missing bones? "Missing bones?" I ask, meaning for it to come out in a relatively reasonable voice, but it comes out a squeak. I am deeply ashamed. After hearing that, Boromir would probably disown me.

She sighs, like an adult talking to a small child who has needed something explained to it several times. A small, STUPID child. "Yes. The Whomping Willow caught you fairly hard. Now, take your potion, and then you can go to sleep."

I shake my head frantically, suddenly remembering something. "Wait - there was someone with me. My friend - my husband, actually - is he hurt?"

She plants her hands on her hips. "Which is it, dear? Friend or husband?"

Oooh, I hate people like this. "Both. He was my friend before he was my husband. He's my BEST friend." She gives me a disbelieving look. "We're newlyweds, all right? We've been married for about three weeks."

Her expression softens. At least the newlywed card is good for bloody something. Don't give me that look. Let's just say the honeymoon's - kinda over. And let's just also say that I KNEW this marriage thing was a bad idea. Anyway, away from my tormented love life and back to reality. She reaches out and pats my arm. "You get some sleep, and I'll talk to the headmaster about your...husband."

Have you ever noticed, that if you happen to be a newlywed, and you stutter over the husband thing, they think you're lying and just assume you're living in sin? And then they say the word 'husband' like they're humoring a crazy person?

Of course, that could just be me. Maybe I'm reading a little too much into it.

"Drink your potion, dear," the lady says soothingly. I sigh and take a deep gulp.

And nearly puke. God, this shit is HORRIBLE! Remind me to never run into the Whomping Willow again. Whatever the hell that is. "What the hell is this?"

"Skele-Gro," she repeats patiently. "To regrow your bones, dear. Drink up."

"It's horrible."

"Of course it is," she says calmly. "Medicine never tastes good. But just think - after this you'll be able to get a good night's rest."

Yeah, until the pain wakes me up, I'm sure. I take a deep breath, hold my noise, and gulp it down as fast as I can. She hands me a glass of water, and I drink that down as fast as I can too. She pats my arm and scurries off, before returning with a new goblet. "Now for the sleeping draught," she says gently, and helps me drink it. I'm almost too tired to hold the cup. As soon as all of the sleeping thingie is down, the world starts to get fuzzy and gray around the edges and the next thing I know, I'm down for the count.

I do not like it here. I do not like being imprisoned in stone walls, I do not like not seeing Earendil in the sky, I do not like being sorrounded by humans, and I do not like being seperated from Kayli. There are several other things I don't like about being here, but those are the major ones. And it is seriously starting to make me angry.

I am currently facing an old man with a long white hair and beard, wearing flowing robes covered with arcane symbols and odd lenses on the tip of his nose. He is, by far, the strangest looking human I have ever met. And I am including Mithrandir in this. And bloody Radagast. Not far from him is a rather stern-faced woman with her hair pulled tightly back and a seemingly perpetually disapproving expression. She reminds me - in an odd, rather strange way - of my grandmother, who often wore the same expression when my brothers and I did something wrong in public.

I shake the thought off and return my attention to the old man. Albus Dumbledore, his name is. He's the Headmaster of this...school. His hands are folded on his desk and he's smiling brightly. Not all there, this one. "Now, we need to have as much information as possible before we attempt to find a way for you to return to your world."

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. We've been through this seemingly dozens of times, and these people are trying my patience, even more than Gimli, in the early days of our Quest. "I have already told you everything, more than once. I fail to see why we must go through it again."

"You have to understand, sir, that we have never heard anything like your...tale. It seems rather impossible."

"And it's unheard of," the stern-faced woman says.

Yes, I think Albus covered that with 'impossible.' "Nevertheless, it is quite true." My father would be endlessly amused if he could see me now. Trying to explain myself to a pair of wizards. At this exact moment in time all I want is to see my WIFE.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to think of her. She's seemed angry the last few weeks anyway. Best not to dwell on anything because I always wonder why she's angry. I shake my head and turn back to the two wizards. Albus watches me a with a frightening direct, serene gaze. Frighteningly like Gandalf, actually. "What do you want me to tell you, Headmaster? That I know how I got here, and how to get back? I don't. I don't know how I'm here, I don't know why I'm here, and I want to see my wife." I grit my teeth, and force the next word out. "Please."

I am not usually a rude person. My parents - my father, especially - made sure that i was NEVER a rude child, and such lessons stay with you. But these people have done nothing to earn such manners from me. In fact, all they've apparently done is TRY to make me angry.

The woman throws her arms up. "This child is more trying than the Weasley twins!" she cries.

"Child?" I exclaim. NOW I'm angry.

"Now, Minerva -" Albus says.

"I am not a child," I mutter hotly, glaring at Albus when he holds up a hand for silence.

"We must help him, Minerva," he says firmly. "This is not his world, and it is dangerous for those inexperienced in our world."

Oh, this just keeps getting more and more insulting.

Albus looks up at my sound of disgust - something I picked up from Kayli, a year ago I never would've made such a noise. "As experienced as you might be in the ways of your own world, Master Legolas, our world is quite...different. It is a magickal world."

I arch an eyebrow at him, the same expression that so infuriates Kayli. He has no way of knowing that I grew up sorrounded by such magic. My father is one of the most powerful Elves in Middle-Earth. How else would we have held our Forest for so long? Through good looks and charm? The good looks my family has, some would say in excess. The charm is something else entirely, as anyone who has ever met my brothers could attest to.

I am starting to think like Kayli speaks. I am babbling in my own head. This is a nightmare.

"What do you want, exactly, Master Legolas?" Albus asks gently.

At this exact moment in time? Hmm. Let me think, because this is a hard question. I've only asked if one or TEN times. I answer through clenched teeth, keeping a firm grip on the famous (or perhaps INFAMOUS) House of Oropher temper. "I want to see my wife, please."

Albus nods. "Ah, the young lady you...arrived with."

HUMANS. What other woman would I be married to? "Yes," I say instead, as calmly as I can.

Albus nods cheerfully. This man is broken. "Indeed. I'll see if she's awake yet. Perhaps you would like to get some rest?"

I pass a hand over my tired eyes. I don't want to rest until Kayli and I are together again, but it's not like we haven't spent nights apart. I just...want to see she's all right. I have to know.

I sigh. Some things you just have to wait for. "Yes," I murmur instead. "That would be fine."

Albus claps his hands together like this is some kind of victory, or perhaps just the most wonderful thing that could have happened. "Excellent," he says, beaming. "I'll have some students show you to an empty room. He stands to his feet and sweeps around his desk, absently petting a rather ancient-looking bird on his way. "If you'd just follow me, Master Legolas."

I follow him down the stairs, remember what my father often said about dealing with wizards. Of course, he always said it when Mithrandir was there to take advantage of father's hospitatlity and drink all of his best wine. "Just let them have it, Legolas. It's not worth the aggravation of arguing with them, because they are ALWAYS convinced they're right."

I never realized how right he was.

The woman, Minerva, practically tackles three students in the halls. One is a red-haired boy, taller and ganglier than any of the other two. There's a girl with hair that rather resembles a shrub and enough books to stock a library. And the last is a boy with brilliant green eyes and hair that seems to be stubbornly defying gravity. They exchange nervous glances and approach. "This is -" she glances at me sharply, and frowns even more severly. I wouldn't even have guessed it was possibly. I smile serenly and she huffs and turns back to her students. "a visitor. Please guide him to an empty room on the sixth floor, please."

They nod nervously. Albus pats me on the shoulder and smiles vaguely. "These young ones will take care of you, my friend. Now, Minerva and I must go speak to Madam Pomfrey about your friend. Excuse us."

The four of us stare after him. Well, three of us do. The fourth, the girl, is staring at me rather intensely. "Excuse me, but what is wrong with your ears?"

I turn back to her, cursing the fact that I'd left my hair in braids. "There's nothing wrong with my ear."

The tall red-headed boy peers at them. "They look...pointy."

I arch an eyebrow at him. "For a good reason. Do you have names, or shall I make some up for you?" I somehow refrain from telling them that those names would not be particularly kind. Or flattering.

"I'm Harry Potter," the other boy says suddenly. He hadn't spoken yet, and I was beginning to wonder if he could. "This is Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley." He pauses. "Do...uh, do you have a name?" They're all looking at me intently, taking mental inventory of everything else about me that's not quite...human.

"Legolas," I answer calmly, ignoring the girl's probing stare. I make a grand gesture. "After you, my friends."

I follow them, silently. Every once in a while, one of them - usually the dark-haired boy, Harry, which is an absolutely atrocious name - glances back over their shoulder to make sure I'm still there. I ignore that too. I'm mostly concentrating on their conversation. "He looks funny," the redhead whispers.

This coming from someone spotted.

"Shhh!" the girl hisses. "He might be able to hear you!"

"How?" Harry whispers. "He's way back there, Hermione."

"Did you see his ears?" she demands. "Animals with larger ears naturally have better hearing than other creatures."

And I do not have big ears, thank you.

"What about Percy?" Ron asks. "He has huge ears, and HE couldn't hear us way back there."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Oh, RON."

The spotted on shrugs. Yes, I realize that's not charitable, but I can't really bring myself to care. My naneth would have pitched a fit over that one. It's been a long day.

Harry smiles slightly. "I don't think he can hear us, Hermione. He'd have said something by now."

"Are you so certain?" I ask politely, pitching my voice loud enough so they can hear me."

Hermione opens her mouth to say something, but Ron interrupts. "Yes, yes, you told us so," he says, then mutters "know-it-all" under his breath.

The girl runs an aggravated hand through her amazing hedge-hair and glares at me. "What ARE you?" she demands.

OK, that's it. I have had enough of these people. They're rude, condescending, obnoxious, and patronizing. I refuse to be polite any more. "The nex person who questions my species, intelligence, magickal abilities, age, or gender is going to be in a great deal of pain," I snap. "I have had enough of you people, and I haven't even been here a day."

They all gape at me. Hermione looks so shocked she almost falls over. Ron wraps an arm around her shoulder and glares at me. Harry is watching me carefully, with eyes far older than they should be. I notice that they're almost the exact color of my father's.

Harry smiles suddenly. "You're right, you know," he said. "We're curious, you know," he says. "We have a tendency to poke and prod at new things." He doesn't say it like he's explaining, more like he's musing, and not really talking to anyone other than himself.

"Is everyone here crazy?" I ask, more out of morbid curiousity than anything else.

Hermione manages a small laugh. Damn, I think I hurt her feelings. I rake a hand through my hair and sigh.

Ron and Harry exchange glances. Then they both laugh, exactly at the same time. Even though they don't look anything alike, they remind me of Elladan and Elrohir. I feel a sudden stab of sharp pain and have to lean against the wall for a moment.

Homesickness. Who knew?

Oh, God, my head hurts. I am so bloody sick of headaches. If we ever get back to Middle-Earth, I am going to see if I can talk to the Valar about never getting a headache ever again.

I blink my eyes. Actually, it makes me feel like my whole head blinks. On, off. On, off. Ouch.

After a moment or two, I manage to get into a sitting position. I'm amazed by the lack of pain. You'd think having bones that just grew back, I'd be some in pain. But nope, not a bit.

This place is weird.

Sitting by the side of my bed is an old man with a long white beard and white hair just as long. He's wearing green robes covered in stars and crescent moons and other funky, arcane symbols, half of which I can't identify. "Ah, you're awake," he says cheerfully.

Nope, definitely not Gandalf. Gandalf is never cheerful. And he wouldn't be caught dead in green.

"I...think so," I mutter, and think about it for a second. "Yeah, I'm awake." I pause. "Maybe."

"We have a young gentleman here is quite concerned about you," he says, now not QUITE as cheerful.

Young gentleman? Who the hell...Oh. Legolas. Duh. It was the young part that confused me. I keep forgetting that he looks like he's about...my age. When I get older, people are going to look at me and think 'pervert,' or 'cradle-robber'. I'm ok with that.

The concern hits me after a second. "Is he ok? Is he hurt? Is anything wrong?"

He shakes his head, smiling kindly. "No, no, no. He's quite well." He pauses, looking thoughtful. "Quite an extraordinary young man, really."

I rake my hair out of my face and make an annoyed sound when it falls back into my face. "Well, you've got one out of three right."

He stares at me for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"

I shrug. "I'll give you extraordinary. But he's not young and he's not a Man."

He just stares. "He seemed rather male," he says slowly.

I glimpse my back on the floor and start to dig through it, looking for a ribbon or a peice of twine, anything to keep my hair out of my face. "I didn't say he wasn't male, I said he wasn't a Man," I say absently. I think I'm confusing him. Middle-Earthian phrasing.

"You mean he isn't HUMAN," he muses, and I look at him sharply. Then I shrug. Whatever. What he doesn't know probably can't hurt us. I find a brush, then pull out a ribbon. I finally notice that there's a small pile of things on the nightstand. My necklace, my ring, an array of hairpins, and some other random stuff, probably from my pockets, I grab the hairpins and twist my hair up. I have way to much to put up with just a ribbon.

I look back at the old man, who doesn't seem a disturbed to see that my mouth is full of hairpins. He just smiles benignly. "As soon as your ready, someone will help you find your...gentleman."

I nod. He leans back in his chair. "But before that, I have a few questions for you."

That is almost never a good thing.

TBC...

Maybe.


	2. Calm Before The Suck

And to think, this day started out normal. Breakfast with Harry and Hermione, double Potions, taking crap from Malfoy, watching Snape glare at Harry, and watching Harry stare out into space the same way he has since Sirius died. And watch Hermione when she's not looking. But we won't go into that.

Then Professor McGonagall flagged us down, and we led that strange bloke to his room. He was really very polite, even if he seemed a bit odd. And a little lost. Just a regular bloke with funny ears. And, if you looked closely in the dimmer corridors, he seemed to glow.

Hermione thinks he's not magickal. Well, we all know I respect 'Mione's intelligence, really I do. But if somebody who glows in the dark isn't magickal, then I don't think she'd know magick if it painted itself blue and danced naked on a harischord wearing Dobby's tea cozy. And a pair of her odd knit socks.

But then, Hermione wouldn't listen to me. It's not that she thinks I'm dumb, it's just that she thinks she's smarter than me, and anything I have to say, well, she would've thought of it first.

Hell, most of the time it's even true. Most of the time, I just assume that she's thought of it already, so I don't speak.

"I think he was magickal" Harry says, interrupting our debate. Since Harry doesn't say much anymore, we stop talking when he does. "He glowed, remember."

Hermione looks disgusted. "You're imaging things" she says as we settle our stuff underneath the tree by the lake.

I shake my head. "No, Hermione, I saw it, too."

She frowns. "I don't think it's possible for a human to glow in the dark" she mutters, automatically reaching for one of her books. "I mean, maybe some spell, or a charm..."

"I don't think he was a wizard" I say, ignoring her disbelieving look. I already know what she thinks. I can practically hear the thought running through her head. 'But Ron, if he's not a wizard, how could he do that?' "I don't think he's human."

Hermione starts tugging on her hair. It's cute, when she does that. "But he looked human..." she says softly. She can't stand problems she can't solve. She gets this little wrinkle, between her eyebrows, that's really, really cute.

"I don't suppose you've ever heard that appearances can be deceiving" His voice is smooth, almost melodious.

We all glance up, startled. Harry drops his quill, automatically reaching for his wand. Some people would call that paranoia. You're not really paranoid if somebody really is out to get you, though.

Hermione tips her head back and watches him, chewing her lower lip. "So you're not human"

He crouches down next to us. He's dressed differently today, I notice, in Muggle clothes someone either found or made for him. For some reason, a hooded sweatshirt and jeans looks distinctly out of place on him. It could be the long hair. Or the ears. Or the obvious discomfort. Honestly, I felt pretty much the same way when I first wore Muggle clothes.

"Then what are you" Hermione asks, leaning forward in that way she does when they're teaching something really interesting. Or that SHE thinks is really interesting. Harry and I mostly just copy her notes.

He tilts his head to the side and looks at her. He looks different, too, not just the clothes. It's like...like Harry gets sometimes, that distant, scary, hurt look in his eyes that Hermione and I whisper about - sometimes with Neville, or with Ginny - and say that we wish we could take away. And then we end up arguing about how to do it, naturally.

"What do you think" he asks her. And there's a challenge in his voice.

Hermione loves nothing more than she loves a challenge. Not even me and Harry.

I lean back against the tree, with Harry, to enjoy the show.

It's disgraceful, being forced to show a commoner around the castle like this. I, Draco Malfoy, have been reduced to tour guide. Ordinarily, I'd snipe and threaten to write a letter to my father, which has no effect now. As opposed to before, when it had little effect, especially on the Headmaster.

Of course, Dumbledore knew my father was a Death Eater. But at the time he was really very influental.

Not that it matters.

What matters is that I - ME- have been ordered - by my Head of House, no less - to escort this - this GIRL around the castle. To make things worse, she's a MUGGLE. To make them EVEN WORSE, Crabbe and Goyle will not stop drooling over her. I don't see why. She's kind of scary. I'm pretty sure she would make the Dark Lord look positively friendly.

Even if she is kind of pretty. Prettier than Pansy, anyway. The scar on her face doesn't ruin her looks. I thought a scar on a face would, but it doesn't. I'm going to stop thinking about this before I start sounding like a damn Hufflepuff. She's a Muggle, dammit.

Greg stares at her ass as she walks. Vince does, too, actually. I'm restraining myself.

She is an odd looking individual, however. She's wearing Muggle clothes, a sort of odd frilly shirt and hooded jumper and jeans. She has long black hair, a scar down the left side of her face, a metal bolt through her tongue, and slits up the sides of her jeans to her boottops, where she has knives. And she has this sort of level, disinterested stare, like she's seen it all, it was ugly, and there's really nothing you could do that would be worse.

She's rather intimidating, and I really don't know how to act around her. I have a feeling if I acted the way I do around Hero Potter, the Weasel, and the mudblood, she'd put those daggers to rather frightening use.

"Um, there's not really much up that way" I'm telling her, trying to avoid looking into her eyes. I read somewhere that serial killers and other frightening people tend to explode if you make direct eye contact. And for some reason I don't think I'd have time to pull out my wand, either. I gesture up one of the stairways from the Great Hall. "Just - uh - the Astronomy Tower and the Owlery."

"Owlery" she asks, actually sounding curious. She plays with something around her neck, something that sparkles and reminds me of mother's jewelry.

"Where we keep our owls" Greg says helpfully. Vince just kind of...drools. I do wish he'd stop staring at her ass. From the look on her face, I'd guess she's wishing the same thing.

She frowns, mulling over this. "Why do you keep owls? Like...pets"

"Messenger birds" I tell her. "They carry our mail."

Why would this interest anyone? She just nods and heads for the main doors. Greg and Vince follow obediently. Of course, so do I. But at least I'm not following her for the view.

We wander around the lake for awhile. I glimpse Potter and the Potterettes seated under the tree, conversing with a girly looking bloke with long hair. And the Muggle's whole face lights up like a bloody Christmas tree. I don't think she's noticed the ring of girls - mostly Gryffindors, a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, even a few Slytherins - gathered 'round. Since not even Potter usually gets this much attention, I'm assuming it would be because of their new...friend.

"Is that a guy or a girl" Vince asks, sounding confused.

Our...guest lets out a holler, something that sounds like "Legolas" and springs towards the tree.

He meets her halfway, and it's like something out of some disgustingly, mushy, romantic, Muggle play. There's a great deal of...hugging. And some kissing.

Vince and Greg look disappointed. I'm just glad we can sneak away.

I never, ever thought I would be this happy to see anyone. Like, ever. I didn't know it was POSSIBLE to be this happy to see someone. He has some really worrying effects on me, sometimes.

It takes a few minutes to get me to let go of his neck, but that's okay, right?

Someone - several someones, actually - are crowding in behind him without actually getting any closer. Must be one of those magickal things the blond kid with the pointy chin mentioned. They're making little disappointed 'aww' noises. Ha! Tough luck, you slithering, overly-hormonal schoolgirls. My Elf. I grab his collar and kiss him.

Just...because I've missed him. It's not to prove a point. Well, maybe a little.

We just stand there for a moment, like a scene in a bad romance movie. I'm not sniffling when we pull apart though. Just like a don't sniffle at these kinds of scenes in those bad romance movies.

Riiight.

I finally notice the group of teenagers hovering behind him, looking uncomfortable. They're not like all those girls - and notice how I manage to give 'girls' inflection like it's a bad word - hovering around like he might actually notice them. They look more like they're waiting for permission to leave.

Legolas presses a kiss to my forehead and I smile at his groupies. "Hi."

The dark-haired one nods at me. The bushy-haired girl seems to be looking at my ears. The red-head seems is staring, all wide-eyed, at the scar on my face, like I'm self-concious about it nearly enough already.

"Kayli, this is Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They were my guides yesterday."

I frown. "How long have I been out."

He stokes my hair. "Nearly three days. I was worried."

I refuse to let that statement make me all warm and fuzzy. Harry and Ron seem to be staring intently at their shoes. Ron is blushing. Hermione makes a little 'aww' noise, then clears her throat and buries her nose in a book.

God, I like them already.

"Good book" I ask.

She looks up, surprised. I have the feeling these two don't ask her about her reading material much. Hell, they don't look like they ask about the reading material for their classes. Bet she's the brains of the outfit. Have I ever mentioned that women are naturals at that? Men just don't get it.

"It's 'Hogwarts, A History,'" she says, like I'm supposed to know what that is. "It tells the entire history of Hogwarts, from the founders until the late nineteen sixties."

Huh. Sounds kinda cool to me. Legolas watches with amusement as I start to ask questions. The two of us immediately fall into conversation, Legolas interjecting his own opinion at times. The boys settle into a discussion about Quidditch. Whatever that is.

You know, this really isn't that bad. Which is usually my first clue.

TBC...


	3. Stranger Than Fiction

- Harry -

This might make me sound even more paranoid then...well, then I already am, but when things are going really well, it usually means everything is going to go to hell, and fairly soon.

Things are going fairly well, but it's just the start of the term. I miss Sirius, of course. But not as much as I think Prof - Remus does. We saw him over the summer, at Grimmauld Place, and he seemed just...kind of...broken. All we're doing now is waiting, waiting for the war to come to us. I hate waiting. Hermione tries to fill up our time with classes and studies and she even goes so far as to help me make Quidditch strategies, and then Ron looks uncomfortable, like he's just found out the girl he fancies is Oliver Wood in drag.

Of course, that's what she reminds me of, too, when she gets like that. She gets all these books from the library and just crams as much as she can. She tries, so neither one of us tells her that she doesn't know what she's talking about.

She's too excited to do any of that today, though. She keeps going on and on and on about her new friend, the strange bloke with the hippie hair. Apparently, he has some really fascinating views on just about everything, and Ron gets so jealous every time she mentions him that I think he's ready to explode.

"It's absolutely FASCINATING, his views on our magic. I guess they have wizards where he's from, but not wizards like us. They carry staffs, not wands and -"

"Do we have to hear about him constantly," Ron gripes. "Legolas this, and Legolas that. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a crush on him like you did Lockhart."

"Except bigger," I agree.

Hermione glares at both of us. "Oh, don't you understand? I'm learning from him, different things than I learn in class. Besides," she says, like this just closes the entire subject of crushes. "He's MARRIED."

"How do you know?" Ron asks.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "He's wearing a ring, Ron, and the girl, Kayli, she has one just like it." Hermione shrugs. "Even if I was interested in him, at least I'd know I had a better chance than someone like Lavender or Parvati, for once."

Ron snorts. "I don't know why blokes'd be interested in girls like them when there are girls like you around, anyway." Then he blushes, realizing what he said. "Um...I mean..."

Hermione beams at him. "Thank you, Ron!" And she kisses his cheek.

For a moment, I thought Ron was going to die of embarrassment. Hermione goes back to chattering about all she's learned from Legolas, and Ron continues to watch her when he thinks she's not looking. This is getting ridiculous...even if it is funny.

Hermione pauses for breath, and Ron asks a question I know he's been thinking about. "So...what is he?"

Hermione takes a minute to think about it. I have to admit, I'm a bit curious. He does seem magickal...especially the part where he, well, he GLOWS. Normal people just don't do that, not even in the wizarding world. Well, there was the time that Ron and I had a potion explode in class...we glowed for two days after that. I suppose it could be a potion, but what about his ears?

"I think he's an Elf," Hermione says suddenly.

Ron and I both stare at her for a second. "An...Elf? You mean like a House-Elf?" Ron asks. "No offense, Hermione, but he doesn't look much like a House-Elf."

Hermione shakes her head. "No, not a House-Elf. I've read about...other kinds of Elves. Magickal beings. Not like us, magical, but latently magical. Usually excellent warriors, things like that. The thing is..." she trails off and shrugs.

"The thing is..." Ron sounds eager. Like he always does about something new and exciting. Or Quidditch.

She shrugs again. "The thing is...the stories are usually fiction."

Ron frowns. We exchange a glance. "He didn't seem very fictional," I finally say.

- Kayli -

I have never felt so useless in my life. Not even in the beginning of the Ring Quest, when I wasn't doing shit.

One thing I have learned to hate since I started taking an active part in the protection of Gondor? Sorry, that's a Boromir phrase. But anyway, I hate standing still for an extended span of time. Legolas is spending all of his time in conversation and research with Dumbledore and McGonagall - for some reason, those names sound very familiar, why I don't know - and the students have classes and I HATE not having anything to do. All it does is piss me off.

So what do I do? What I always do when I'm bored, it's just a bit harder to find a clear place with no people around here. Mainly because this place is packed with students and teachers and other people. That caretaker guy, the one with the cat, has it in for me.

I just want to DO something. Anything. I hadn't realized before that I was taking Middle-Earth for granted. At least there, there's a bad guy to fight or evil to vanquish or, hell, even soldiers to train. This not-being-able-to-do-anything-useful thing is driving me insane.

I'm currently down by the lake, doing what I usually do when I'm bored - practicing. I didn't get this good with my knives without SOME practice, thank you. And I get into it, really. Deep. Usually, this includes blocking out everything that my subconcious doesn't think of as a threat. I register stuff, vaguely take notice of what's going on around me, but nothing really penetrates, you know?

So when those kids come up behind me, I know they're there. It doesn't really register, but I know. It just doesn't strike me as important enough to stop what I'm doing.

I hear one of them say "wow." Flattering, but really not very high praise coming from a kid who uses magic instead of force in battle. But you gotta admit - less mess. And maybe less pain?

Some how I doubt that. People are vengeful, pain-giving fuckers. They've probably come up with some spell that'll put you in so much pain, you'd WISH you were dead.

I finish my last move and turn to my captive audience. Then I bow. Hermione and Ron applauds, Harry just looks amazed.

"Thanks," I say. Oh, uck. The bad thing about all this practice? Sweat. Eww. I push wet hair out of my face and plop down on a convenient rock. "How's it going"

Hermione comes and sits next to me, hugging a book. Is it just me, or is the redhead giving her 'LOOKS?' They seem like looks. A lot like the looks I used to give Legolas, actually. There's something to be said for the not-obviousness of obvious longing glances. Or maybe people are just bloody oblivious.

Not that Legolas is oblivious. Well, yes he is.

I didn't say that. God, somebody shut me up.

Ron shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at me curiously, like I'm some kind of fascinating new species. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

I smile slightly. It's not a real smile, more like a I'm-smiling-to-hide-the-fact-that-I-feel-like-I-got-punched-in-the-stomach smile. God, but it hurts to think about home. Or anything to do with home. Even to pain-in-the-ass Half-Elven twins with too much time on their hands and either not nearly enough common sense (Elladan) or far too much practicality (Elrohir). "Two very good friends of mine," I tell them, instead of saying what I'm really thinking, which is that I miss them both. So much.

"What kind of friend can teach you THAT?" Ron asks, staring at my knives.

I smirk at him and give them a little twirl before sliding them into my boots. "Good ones."

Ron gives me a kinda disbelieving look. "I've got some pretty good mates, and none of them could teach me that."

I resist the urge to ruffle his hair. He's resent me for, oh, life. I remember being a teenager. And he can't help it that he's so damned CUTE. Actually, he kinda reminds me of Sam, for some reason. "Be glad," I say instead. "I HAD to learn how to do this. If I hadn't, I'd be dead by now."

They stare at me for a second. Ron and Hermione look wide-eyed, Harry just looks thoughtful. Holy fuck, what has this kid SEEN?

"Could you teach me?" Harry asks suddenly. I look at him. I was pretty sure he was joking, until I actually took a good look. This kid is as serious as a funeral.

I shake my head quickly. "Your parents would kill me."

"My parents are dead," he says, and there's a flatness in his voice that almost hurts to listen to.

There's another long moment of silence. "I'm sorry," I say after a second. "I didn't know. But even so, there has to be some parental-tyupe figure who would remove my intestines with a bacon fork if I taught you how to use an edged weapon."

Harry and Ron exchange a glance and then burst out laughing. Hermione giggles helplessly. "Mum!" Ron hollers, doubling over. "That is so Mum!"

Harry laughs so hard he has to sit down.

I am not so amused. A year ago, I would've flipped out and asked them what the hell was so funny. But if there's one thing living with an immortal will teach you, it's patience.

After a couple minutes, Harry straightens up and makes some attempt to smooth down his hair. Some things, however, are a lost cause from the very beginning. "Yeah, there's someone like that," he says, and then pauses. Oh, no. Here it comes. The 'What The Parent/Grandparent/Godparent/Aunt/Uncle/Cousin George/Insert Favorite Parental Unit Here Doesn''t Know Can't Hurt Us' Speech.

I'm shaking my head before he even opens his mouth. I REMEMBER that Speech. I should have the PATENT on that Speech. And, here's what I really want to know, when the hell did I become the grown-up in this situation? In ANY situation? As soon as I find my Adult Resignation form, I am handing it in.

"No, no, and no. Uh-uh. No way. I like my intestines where they are, thank you."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Harry protests.

"Yes, I do," I say. "You were going to say that what she doesn't know won't hurt her, or us, and it would be something useful for you to learn, and kinda cool, and something to fill up your weekends, or something. But let me just say - they ALWAYS KNOW. And what they find out CAN hurt you."

Ron is nodding before I'm finished speaking. It's the nod of someone who has been punished at the hands of the Parent, and does not want to repeat the experience. But then, that's the perfect parenting skill to have. "She's right, mate. Mum always finds out." He makes a face. "At least, she always doesn when I do something wrong."

"Yes, but before you, she had lots of practice." This from Hermione. I take it Ron has a lot of older siblings. I wonder how many 'a lot' is.

"But it would be something useful for me to learn" Harry says intently, ignoring them both. "I mean, it's not like I can fight Voldemort " Ron flinches "- with regular magic, he knows tons more than I do, I'm still just a student. It's only my sixth year, there's a lot I don't know about magic. Especially the Dark Arts, which he'll be using against me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop the carriage. Who's Voldie-whatsit?"

"Lord V-Voldemort," Hermione says, like saying the name gives her heartburn, or something. "He's the most powerful Dark Wizard Britain's ever seen. And the evilest."

Oh, look, another evil wizard. I wonder if he took the same classes as Saruman.

Moving on. "Evil dark wizard. Got it. 'Cause I've never met one of THOSE before." They stare at me, and I shake my head. "Why is he after you"

Harry looks uncomfortable. And before you start with the lecture, little Legolas voice in my head, I know even considering to teach him is a bad, horrbile thing. And I don't know why the little angel guy on my shoulder sounds like Legolas, since he'd be doing that same thing.

Hermione takes a deep breath, and Harry looks kind of resigned to his fate. "Harry was the only person to survive the Killing Curse at Lord -" Ron cringes, and she changes words - "V- umm, You-Know-Who."

I run a hand through my hair and sit down to think about it. "OK," I say finally. "I'll teach you, Harry. 'Cause apparently you have the most reason to learn. As for you two, I definitely need parental permission."

Ron sighs. "Mum'll never let me learn."

Hermione's whole face lights up. "You're a Muggle, right" she asks me suddenly.

I stare at her. "What's a Muggle?"

"Non-magic person."

I think about that for a second. "Ummm...yeah."

Hermione stops for a second to smirk at Ron, who's grinning like an idiot. "I bet Dad would let me do just about anything if he met you," he muses.

I think I'm offended. "Uh, excuse me?" It's amazing how much insult you can put into two words. You can put alot into two words.

Ron immediately turns a rather interesting shade of pink. Oh, yeah. He definitely reminds me of Sam. "No! Not like THAT!" Harry collapses into giggles. "He's interested in Muggle stuff!"

I shake my head slowly. "Look, I haven't been around here for a long time. I'm originally from a world...I think a world like this one, from what I understand..."I sigh. "I've been in Middle-Earth for over a year now, and - and I can't really remember the little stuff about my world."

"MIddle-Earth!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, snapping her fingers like some kind of demented - finger-snappy person. I'm sorry, I can't thing of anything else right now. It's kind of hard when your brain is trying so hard to remember stuff that it feels like it's melting. "It's from a book! That's where I've heard his name before! From a book!"

"The Lord of the Rings," I say. "By JRR Tolkien. Not a book, but a trilogy. Actually six books, compressed into three. And some other stuff, like the Unfinished Tales."

Hermione gapes at me. "You...you're actually FROM Middle-Earth."

Here we go again. Didn't I explain all this? Yeah, to Dumbledore. Right. "Now? Yes. Originally? Minnesota."

Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry. "What's a Minnesota?"

"I have no idea."

"It's a state" I explain, stretching my legs before they start to stiffen up. You have to stretch after you exercise, or your muscles get all tense. "You know, in the United States of America? I think you probably still call us bloody colonials over here."

"You're an AMERICAN" Ron asks, gaping at me.

I laugh. "Yeah, I guess. More Gondorrian."

Hermione looks thoughtful. "I wonder if Mum could owl me my Lord of the Rings books."

I wince. "Don't tell Legolas," I say. "He's having a hard enough time coping without finding out he's a fictional character in this world."

They all wince, trying to imagine. And suddenly it hits me.

Harry Potter. Oh, FUCK.

Heh. That reminds me where I've heard the name Dumbledore before.

And the next thing I know, the three kids are giving me really strange looks, and I'm laughing so hard there are tears pouring down my face.

It feels good to laugh.

TBC...


	4. Conversations, Contemplations, And Spor...

- Legolas -

I do not like this place. I realize I've said this before, but I do not like this place.

And our research is getting us nowhere. I hate not knowing what I'm doing. Ask Kayli. Any time.

I rub my temples and tune out the droning of the supposed 'Seer.' Seer, my immortal ass. I've met trees with more precognitive ability. And I am not exagerrating.

I walk out of the room without excusing myself. Conversation in the room stops when I step away from the window, and I hear it resumed in whispers when I close the door behind me. I could understand them if I wanted...but I really don't. I retrieve my bow and quiver from our room and go outside.

I'm practicing when Kayli finds me. The three young ones are with her, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Ron is looking from me to my targets with wide eyes. Hermione has yet to look up from her book. Harry seems to be examining my bow with curious eyes. Kayli's leaning against the tree and rubbing her eyes. She didn't sleep very well last night.

"You're good," Ron says, sounding impressed.

Kayli snorts. That is one of the most disgusting noises I've ever heard a human make and it is absolutely impossible to get her to break that habit. I thought my brother's wife was going to die when she heard Kayli make that noise. Of course, we were talking about spider-hunting at the time, and my brothers are a bit descriptive. I don't think she wanted to be invited along. She does NOT like spiders.

"You'd be good if you had thousands of years of practice, too," she mutters, and leans her head against the tree, closing her eyes.

"Thousands of years?" Ron blurts.

I sigh. Explaining immortality to mortals is like explaining flying to a fish. Or so I would assume, anyway. They just don't get it.

"It's a long story," I say instead, and go to retrieve my arrows. Kayli follows me, and the children settle beneath the tree. I watch Hermione drag out a book and try to tempt the boys into studying, but it seems to be a lost cause.

"Harry wants to learn how to fight," Kayli says.

I sigh. Sometimes, she is far too good-hearted for her own good. "And you agreed to teach him."

She winces, and mutters something about the little voice in her head sounding like me for a reason. I ignore that. If she's losing her mind, I definitely want to be the last to know. "Not...all of them. They all wanted to learn, you know."

I sigh and rub my temples. "Why?"

Kayli suddenly ducks under my arm and...rather burrows against me, like she has a tendency to do when she needs to tell me something, but really doesn't want to. "Because, apparently, he's had an evil Dark Wizard out to kill him since he was a baby, his godfather JUST died, he doesn't think he can beat this dude with conventional magic, whatever the hell that is, and it's not like I could ask for parental permission, because he doesn't HAVE parents, they were killed by that same evil dark wizard, and his godfather's dead too, and the only people he really has for parents are that crazy Dumbledore guy and his best friends parents, which is great, I guess Ron has this great, huge family, I mean, apparently he has more brothers than you do, but -"

She will not stop talking. There is only one tried and true method of shutting her up. And even THAT doesn't always work, you know.

She makes a startled little "Hmph!" sound. Behind me, I hear someone clear their throat. Then there's the sound of a fist hitting flesh, and Ron yells "OW!" Kayli giggles and pulls away from me, smiling at them. "They're so cute," she whispers.

I laugh. You wouldn't think this, from the tough, cynical exterior she presents to the world, but she's actually...very soft towards people. Even children, as much as she says she hates them.

- Harry -

I really don't think he's so bad, once you get used to him. He's startling, at first, and a bit frightening, but other than that, he's all right. And, quite obviously, Kayli adores him. They're...cute. You can tell she's babbling, even from this distance, and even though she seems to have her face burrowed into his chest.

And when he tilts her head up and kisses her, apparently to shut her up, Hermione makes this little 'aww' noise that makes Ron blush, mutter, and stare at his shoes. I just smile. Some things, like this, I kind of understand. I can see that kind of affection, that deep love, in the present and the future. Right now, I see it with Ron's parents, although they're not quite as...uh, as public with their affection as those two are. And I can see Ron and Hermione being the same bloody way in the future.

It's going to be great. I hope I see it. I hope I live that long. I hope we can make it possible for them to have it. To have...tons of little sprogs with freckles and bushy red hair and lots of books.

I want it to happen. I want it to happen so bad it makes my throat tight. And when I think that Voldemort might take that away from them, just like he took my parents away from me, Neville's parents away from him, Sirius away from Remus...I get so angry that I think if he was right in front of me, I'd kill him or die trying.

Which is sort of the point, I guess.

We start a slow trek back to the castle, Hermione and Kayli engaged in another debate about some Muggle story, something about a demon, an angel, and the end of the world. Legolas has his arm around her waist. I swing my arm around Ron's shoulders. He grins at me and swings his back around mine.

And I watch with a small smile as he winds his fingers through Hermione's.

It's perfect, really.

- Neville -

I really have no idea WHY Gran acts the way she does. My grades have improved drastically since last year, and she was quiet after the whole thing with the Ministry, but now she's harping even more on the fact that I'll never be as good as my father.

Hermione was the one who pointed at that, well, if I kept listening to what she was telling me, I'd never live up to my full potential. Or something like that.

Really, it sounds like a load of rubbish to me, but I would never tell Hermione that. She's smarter than me, so she should know what she's talking about. And I don't mean that in a self-...self-putting-down way, Hermione's smarter than everybody.

Um. Anyways.

I like it up here, especially at night. Of course, that's what the Astronomy Tower is for. It's usually not occupied today, since there's early classes tomorrow, and all the snoggers are in broom closets and wardrobes and empty classrooms. So speaketh the Voice Of Experience In Opening The Wrong Doors And Then Wanting To Gouge His Own Eyes Out With A Spork.

It's not empty tonight, however. There's a young girl - well, woman, really - balanced on the edge of the tower, her legs hanging over the edge, seeming very intent on not looking down. I've seen her with Harry, Hermione, and Ron lately. I recognize her because of the hair. There's nobody else with hair like that at Hogwarts. it's long, black, and looks like she doesn't do much with it. Including brush it.

She glances back over her shoulder at me and smiles slightly. "Hi," she says casually, swinging her legs back over to this side of the ledge. I breathe a sigh of relief. I really didn't want to be up here if she fell. "Shouldn't you be in bed? If the nasty guy with the cat catches you, you'll probably be in detention for a month."

I manage to nod and clutch my telescope. "I just...I just wanted to look at the stars," I mutter. Merlin, could I sound any more pathetic?

She shakes her head. "It's okay, kid, I'm not going to turn you in." She looks at me curiously, probably taking in the fact that I'm wearing a dressing gown and pajamas and a Gryffindow scarf and no shoes. I blush. "Do you have a name?" she asks.

I mutter my name at my telescope, and she leans forward slightly. "What was that? Didn't quite catch it."

"Neville Longbottom," I snap, loud and clear.

She grins at me, and holds out one hand. "Kayli."

I manage to smile and shake her hand. She tilts her head back to look at the stars, looking sad for a moment. So sad, in fact, that it looks like she's almost beyond crying. Or maybe as if she's realized it's a useless pastime, that it won't bring back whatever's she's missing. I learned that lesson a long time ago.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

Kayli smiles at me, this sad smile that reminds me of Harry, when he's watching Ron and Hermione argue, or the twins come up with another brilliant scheme. "I guess I'm just missing home." She gestures at the stars, like it's all their fault. "Not even the stars are the same here."

I stare at her. "Aren't the stars the same everywhere?" I blurt out. "I mean...they're in different PLACES, but they're the same stars everywhere."

She smiles at me. "Not where I'm from, honey." She sits back down on the ledge and gestures towards my star chart. "So what's this for, anyway?"

TBC...


	5. All You Need Is Love, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

- Kayli -

As long as I keep telling myself that Harry's a good kid, I will not start to resent the fact that he does not listen. At least not to me. Maybe he listens to Dumbledore, or to Ron's mother, but he most certainly does not listen to me.

I am currently resisting the urge to strangle him. Hermione has yet to lift her nose from the book. Ron, on the other hand, looks petrified.

I crack my neck, give my blades a little twirl, and contemplate when the hell I got so soft-hearted.

"Harry" a sharp, hoarse, male voice calls suddenly from off to the left. I'm around and with my blades up almost instantly.

It's not that I'm paranoid or anything. No. Not at all. It has mostly to do with an incredible lack of sleep. I was up until like five o'clock in the morning with that Neville kid. Hey, I learned a lot about constellations.

Standing at the edge of our little practice-clearing is a man, about thirty-five, with gray hair, patched clothes, strange, amber-colored eyes and some REALLY funky vibes. Legolas has an arrow in his bow before I can blink, and Harry says "Remus!" in a startled voice.

I relax, a little. Legolas doesn't. And you thought -I- was paranoid.

This Remus guy stalks towards me - seriously, there's no other word for it - and glares at me. I peer at him curiously. Those are some FUNKY eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hisses at me.

I turn and look at Ron. "I thought your mom was the scary one."

Ron clears his throat a little nervously. "Um...I thought so too."

Remus grabs me by the arm. "What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing?"

I look at him, mustering the coldest glare I can. "I'm teaching him how to fight with bladed weapons. What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

Behind me, I hear Legolas sigh. Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but my diplomacy sucks when somebody grabs my arm and GETS IN MY FACE.

The dude growls at me, actually, like, wild-animal growls. I lean forward slightly and look him in the eye. "You might not wanna look so much like you're threatening me," I tell him in a conspiratorial voice. "Goldilocks over there has an itchy trigger finger."

He just kind of blinks at me for a moment, looks back and forth between me and Harry, and then rakes both his hands through his hair and starts fishing through his pockets. Legolas levels his bow again, just in case the dude is looking for a wand. Instead, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a Bic. Ah, a smoker. "Do I even want to know why" he asks in a dead, resigned voice, like he knows it can't be good.

I gesture to Harry. "Your show, kid," I tell him.

He sighs. "It's...sort of a long story," he mutters.

Remus lights a cigarette and takes a drag before folding his arms over his chest. "I've got time."

Remus stares at him. Harry stares at his shoes. Legolas stares at the carvings on his bow. Hermione stares at her book, not like that's a change. Ron stares at the leaves overhead.

"So," I say, very loudly, because tension makes me uncomfortable, even tension between other people. "Why don't the FOUR OF US head back up to the castle, yeah?"

Ron nods as fast as he can without his head falling off. Hermione still doesn't look up, but stands up in the way of someone who agrees very much but doesn't want to see the scene. She hasn't turned a page since Remus showed up, and that girl reads fast.

Harry and his friend are in an intense, whispered discussion, and we sneak quietly out of the clearing.

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief and puts her book away. "Well, THAT was uncomfortable."

Legolas keeps glancing back over his shoulder. I think that dude made him nervous. Believe me when I say he isn't the only one.

- Remus -

I can't believe this. Whatever gods there are, they are cruel bastards. First they take James and Lily, then they take Sirius, and then, to top it all off, they put Harry, really the only thing I have left, in terrible, mortal danger.

It's beautiful. If Harry wasn't standing right there, I'd curse them.

Not that it would do me any bloody good, but it might make me feel just a little bit better.

Probably not.

" - And really, wouldn't it be a good idea for me to have something to fall back on, in case I lose my wand or something? It's not like he'll expect me to come at him with a bloody great butcher knife," Harry finishes earnestly.

I sigh and finish my cigarette. Sometimes, Harry is so much like James it scares me. Other times, he reminds me of Sirius. This time, however, he reminds me of them both, when they were caught doing something wrong and trying to explain it away to MacGonagall. "All right," I mutter. "Just...Harry, it scared the hell out of me to see you fighting like that. Could you let me know, next time you're planning on learning something illegal? I thought she was trying to kill you."

Harry looks deeply ashamed. "I'm sorry, I just ..." he trails off and shrugs. "I don't know what to do," he says suddenly, his voice desperate. "That prophecy, Remus, that prophecy says that I have to become a MURDERER or Voldemort will have the wizarding world, and I don't WANT to kill him, I don't, but I HAVE to, and it's HORRIBLE!"

I stare at him for a moment, stunned. "So that's what it said," I murmur. I wrap my arms around him and pull him towards me. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wish i could do it for you."

Harry shakes his head against my shoulder. "I WANT to kill him, Remus," he says. "He killed my parents, he killed Sirius, he took Neville's parents away from him, he killed Cedric..." He sighs and pulls away, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I know I have to do, most of the time I WANT to do it, but I don't know...I don't know if I can."

I stroke his hair and listen to him breathe roughly. His shoulders are shaking and his tears are soaking my shirt. I stroke his hair and think about the fact that he's almost as tall as I am.

He stands up straight and sniffles. He rubs his eyes feircely "I'm sorry, Remus," he whispers.

I ruffle his hair and try to smile. The smiles aren't coming as easy as they were. As easy as they did before the Department of Mysteries. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind, because thinking of Sirius leads to nothing but pain. "You're right" I tell him after a while. "You should learn. If you think it will help you, then learn. Learn all you can."

He beams at me, red nose and bloodshot eyes and everything. "Thank you, Remus," he says, and hugs me.

I could get used to this parenting stuff, I think.

- Hermione -

An owl arrives at breakfast for me, which almost never happens at Hogwarts. It's carrying a rather large parcel. I rip it open Inside, in a neat little row, are my Lord of the Rings books.I give a little girly squeal that I'm automatically ashamed of, and yank them out. Ron and Harry immediately crowd around me, knowing what they are. Ron grabs 'Return of the King' right out of my hand and flips to the appendices.

He swallows a bite of pancakes - at least I can see that I've finally taught him to hold the books AWAY from his plate while he eats - and says "How come she's not mentioned in here?"

I frown over that. "I don't know. Well, apparently, she was just sent there a little while ago, and these books were written AGES ago."

Harry shakes his head. "She wasn't supposed to be there," he says simply.

Ron and I turn to stare at him. "What gives you that idea?" Ron asks. At least, I think that's what he says. At least he's not spraying pancake bits all over my book.

"She told me so," he answers absently, paging through 'The Two Towers.' "It was sort of a...magical accident, I guess." He sets the book down and picks up his pumpkin juice. "She's always going on about how relieved she is that she found a family there, because she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to get back to her world."

Ron swallows and snickers. "Doesn't look like she's wanting to get home now," he says, and nods towards the door.

Kayli and Legolas are just entering, hand in hand, Legolas's head ducked so he can listen to her as she talks. She's very animated, gesturing with both hands, even the one holding his. He seems more amused by this than anything else.

"No, Harry says slowly, and smiles. "I don't reckon she'd want to. She has a good life, after all."

"And a family," Ron says. Naturally. His family is the most important thing in his life, no matter of Percy or how the twins annoy him.

"And love," I say, and am immediatley ashamed of how girly I sound. But it's true, isn't it? Just LOOK at them...they're so CUTE.

I shake my head in disgust and snap open my Arithmancy text. Really, I have better things to think about than romance, because thinking about romance leads to thinking about Ron, and that way leads to disaster. Honestly, with his parents fertility, we'd have whole bunch of red-headed, buck-toothed sprogs running around and I'd NEVER get a decent career.

Oh, where do these thoughts come from? I don't WANT to have a bunch of red-headed, buck-toothed sprogs with Ronald Weasley.

Do I?

I am so very grateful when Kayli plops down in the seat next to me and starts eating off Harry's plate. Harry tried to pull it away and she just follows it with her fork. "If you wanted breakfast," Harry says firmly, now holding his plate on his other side, "you should have been here earlier."

At this, Kayli promptly blushes to the roots of her hair. I didn't know it was possible to turn that red. Not even RON turns that red. Not that I understand WHAT she is blushing about - oh. OH.

I see.

I grab my book and bury my nose in it. She's not the only one blushing now. Kayli mutters something under her breath and starts eating off my plate instead. After a second, I just hand it to her, and she starts scarfing all the leftovers. Ron frowns at her. "Why are you so hungry?"

She blushes and ducks her head.

Harry suddenly turns equally red. Ron still looks baffled, obviously wondering why Harry is paying such close attention to his sausages.

"Where's Legolas?" he asks. He's obviously trying to keep the conversation going and figure out why Harry's food is suddenly so interesting and why I aboslutely refuse to look up from my book, even though I haven't been turning pages. And Kayli is still resolutely staring at her plate - MY plate - and stuffing her face.

Kayli mutters something around a mouthful of bacon and makes a vague gesture towards the staff table. Legolas is leaning over, deep in conversation with Dumbledore. There's a whole line of girls queuing up to look at his arse. It's ridiculous, really, and he looks rather annoyed. Kayli glances up and starts sending a glare of death at the group of giggly Ravenclaws behind her husband. At least she swallows before she speaks.

"One more giggle, and I am not going to be responsible for my own actions," she mutters.

I laugh slightly. I can't help it. "Well, you have to admit..." I trail off for a moment and turn to look at him, thoughtfully. "He is VERY attractive."

Ron looks like I just kicked him. Harry chokes on his bacon.

Kayli, however, rolls her eyes. "Oh, honey, you have NO idea."

We look at each other and promptly collapse into giggles.

Kayli plucks 'Return of the King' from next to Ron's plate and pages through. "You know, I just don't think I could bring myself to read these again. Not after I'd lived through it."

Ron perks up at this. "But you're not in it."

She shrugs and hands it back to him. "I know. I wasn't suppose to be there."

Harry smiles at her. "Didn't turn out all that bad for you, did it?"

She turns, glancing up at the staff table, something in her eyes I can't quite identify. "No," she says after a while. "I'd have to say it didn't turn out to bad at all."

TBC...


	6. Screaming Fights At Four AM

- Kayli -

Harry's improving, slowly but surely. He has to take a lot of time out of his practice for study and something called the DA and something else called Quidditch. So I, once more, have way too much free time, and I have no idea what to do with it.

Sleeping is, apparently, out of the question. I cannot sleep. I have already slept way too much, and I've started having funky dreams about home. Of course, it would help if my bedwarmer didn't insist on getting up at dawn and doing research that is getting us bloody nowhere. And the one truly pathetic thing about married life? You absolute have to have someone sleeping next to you, or you, very literally, can't sleep.

I, currently, hate my life.

I find Legolas in the library, hunched over a book with the creepy old guy. Once more, there is a whole group of girls huddled around, pretending to study. The library has probably never been this busy. And can I just say that the librarian does not look happy.

There is only one way to put a stop to this, and keep both me and the librarian relatively happy. I stalk over, glare at the girls, and immediately plop down on Legolas's lap.

I didn't know an Elf could turn that shade of red.

There's a disgusted muttering from the girls. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. But they'd be down there with me.

Legolas just shakes his head, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls the book closer.

Hey, maybe I can take a nap.

He and Dumbledore start talking about some magical crap, and I tune them out and start flipping through the book to look at the pretty pictures. I stop to look at a portrait of a rather pretty witch wearing purple, and she smiles, and waves at me.

JESUS!

I let out a little shriek and chuck the book across the table, hitting Dumbledore in the chest. "SHIT! SHIT! Are they SUPPOSED to do that?"

They both look at me like I've cracked. "Um, dear girl, are you quite all right?" Dumbledore asks slowly, like he's checking my mental health.

That's okay. At the moment, I'M checking my mental health.

Or I will be, shortly. As soon as I can breathe normally. "It MOVED!"

Legolas laughs slightly. "Ah. The portraits."

I manage to nod. He laughs and kisses me.

OK, I'm better now.

Dumbledore clears his throat, looking rather intently at the ceiling, like it's the most fascinating thing he's seen in decades. "Yes, my dear, the portraits move. Have you not noticed that the pictures in the corridors do quite the same?"

Um...No?

Legolas shakes his head. "Sometimes, melisse, it amazes me that you have lived this long, not noticing such things."

I am very insulted. "Hey! I notice important stuff!" And I do, dammit. If someone's trying to kill me, I almost always notice. Unless I'm unconcious, which happens a lot.

Legolas pats my back in a very patronizing way. I want to hurt him. That could be the sleep deprivation talking. "Of course you do, love."

I stick my tongue out at him. This is not shaping up to be a good day.

- Ron -

This is not going to be a good day. I can tell already, and the sun's barely up. I overslept, I was late for breakfast, and whoever decided that NEWT Potions should be this bloody early in the morning should be killed. Or at least maimed. And since it was probably Snape who gave the Gryffindors the first class, I really don't have a problem with that.

Ten points from Gryffindor. Greasy, obnoxious bugger, he is.

And then Hermione doesn't even deign to speak with us, instead rushing straight off to the library to help Legolas with research. It's not that I'm jealous, it's that...well, it's actually that I'm so jealous I'm surprised my eyes aren't green. And if I told Harry, I know he'd just laugh at me. Or smile that sad, distracted little smile that's been his version of laughing since Sirius died.

And he wouldn't be laughing to be mean. No, he'd be laughing because I, apparently, am a daft git.

And I still don't know what he's talking about, so I'm starting to think he's right. I have no clue what he's talking about half the time, and the thing with Kayli, yesterday morning, that just confused me.

I slip into my seat next to Harry and Hermione. Neville is staring intently at his Potion, not letting Snape get to him, not letting anything distract him. He's been like that since the beginnning of the year. I think it surprised everybody - including Snape, and even the rest of the Gryffindors - when Neville got an E in Potions. I thought Snape was going to keel over when he found out Neville was in his class. Brightened by day, it did.

And, of course, Snape immediately starts to rip into the Gryffindors. Neville ignores him, which just makes him angry. He gets even angrier when Neville's potion turns out almost perfect at the end of the class.

Luckily, it's a small class. Me, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Malfoy, Parkinson, and Nott. Of course, that also means Snape has more time to harass the Gryffindors, but hey, we can't have everything, eh?

After the class, we file out, still blinking, yawning, completely out of it. Well, except for Hermione. How can I have such a big, giant, bloody ...INFATUATION with a morning person is sort of beyond me. She immediately starts reading out little snippets for our Potions assignment. Like we're going to remember.

We wave to Nearly-Headless Nick, dodge a couple of Dungbombs, and have to race for Professor MacGonagall's classroom. It's a LONG ways from the Potions dungeon to Transfiguration.

We're surprised when we get there. Kayli's sitting in the back of the classroom, deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson, of all people. Pansy actually looks like she's interested in what Kayli's saying. Hermione would have a better word for it, but there can only be one genuis in the group. I don't know what position, exactly, I fulfill. Harry's the heart of the group, I know that. Hermione's the brain. I don't know what I am. I know Harry's my best mate, and I would die for him. Without hesitating.

I think that's when you know you love your friend. When you'll die for them, they're your friend. And when you know they're worth it.

When you're having thoughts like this, it's very hard to concentrate on Transriguration. I'll have to copy Hermione's notes later. She's a better lecturer than Binns, thank Merlin.

I wonder why Kayli's here. She's never sat in on a class before, but Professor MacGonagall doesn't seem to mind. I don't know why. I have the sneaky suspicion that if it was Legolas she'd pitch a holy fit.

Eventually, the class is over. These classes are way too long. Kayli stops to have a word with the Professor, and we wait for her outside the door.

It's odd to have a friend who's so much older than you. Brothers I'm used to. All my brothers are older than me, so it's not that hard. But friends are something different. I'd actually say that the only friends I have are the ones in my house, in my year. Oh, I have casual acquaintences in other Houses, a couple enemies in Slytherin, but no real FRIENDS.

Kayli comes out of the classroom. She smiles when she sees us, and her whole face lights up. She looks tired. Hermione peers at her intently for a second, and then asks, "Are you OK?"

Kayli laughs a little, but not like it's funny. "No," she says. "I am so many miles from OK it's not even funny. I haven't slept in days, my husband and I had a screaming fight, but I can't tell you how it ended 'cause I don't know that much bloody Elvish, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't saying how much he loved me."

We all exchange confused glances. Now how in the bloody hell do we handle THIS?

TBC...


	7. Escaped Death Eaters, Again

- Charlie -

Whoever decided they should put guard dragons on Hogwarts this year had to be high on some kind of Muggle drug. Seriously. Don't these people realize how DANGEROUS dragons are? Do they think there's no reason I always look like I've recently been lit on fire? It's because I HAVE BEEN.

I resist the urge to find a flat surface and bang my head against it. Instead I go looking for some peace and a hopefully extremely alcoholic beverage. I'd settle for the first one though. If I remember correctly, there's nobody by the lake this time of day.

Of course, the one day I'm looking for peace and quiet, there's somebody there. But, hey, at least she's kinda pretty.

Wow. Where can somebody get a scar like THAT?

She is, however, very good with knives. And apparently anything that comes near her right now is doomed to being potentially gutted. After a moment, she goes still, then gives her blades a little twirl and sheaths them in her boots. "Hi."

Wow. Nearly scared the crap out of me. "Hi."

She turns and looks at me intently, brushing her her hair behind her shoulders. She's...rather intense. I've never seen anyone who looks so young with eyes that intense. "You must be one of Ron's brothers."

I stare at her, then grin. "Weasley family genes," I tell her. "People recognize you wherever you go. I think it's the hair." I hold out a hand and take a step forward. "Charlie Weasley."

She takes it and squeezes. "Kayli."

"Just Kayli?" I ask, grinning at her.

She doesn't smile back. Wow, tough crowd. I'm beginning to wonder if even the twins could soften her up. "I don't remember my last name," she says. "It's been a year or two since I've had to use it."

I stare at her, and she finally smiles. "I know. Very weird." Her hair falls into her face, and she practically snarls. I try not to laugh. "Charlie, right? The one who works with the dragons? Or are you the banker?"

I never thought I'd live to see the day where Bill was described as 'the banker.' I am very amused. "I'm the one who works with dragons. Bill's the banker."

She nods, like this all makes sense. To her, maybe it does. "Yeah, that's right. Ron talks about you two alot. And Fred, and George, and he's mentioned Percy, but then Ginny makes this noise like an angry teakettle, and then Harry changes the subject."

I laugh. I have never, ever heard Ginny described as sounding like an angry teakettle. Angry cat, yes. Teakettle, no. I haven't been this amused since I saw the look on Bill's face when he told me Fleur was a quarter veela. "Thanks," I tell her. "I needed that."

She bows. I have never seen anyone make that gesture like it comes naturally. Somehow, she manages. "Glad to be of service to SOMEONE," she says, irritably. Her hair falls into her face, and she looks at the offending peice like she'd rip it out by the roots if she didn't know it would hurt.

I hide a smile. "Where did you learn how to do that?" I ask.

She stares at me blankly for a moment. "Do what? Recognize Weasleys?"

I laugh again. "No. Fight like that."

Kayli smiles and draws one of the blades. It's beautifully crafted, I notice. Ornate hilt, but still looks comfortable to grip. "Two very good friends of mine."

I raise my eyebrows. "Some friends."

She smiles sadly. "Yes, they are." For a moment, she looks wistful, like she misses something so much it hurts to even contemplate. It hurts to look at, even. She shakes it off, almost literally, and resheathes the blade. "But I'd rather not think about them, since it's looking like I'll never see them again."

I wince. "Dammit, I'm sorry."

Kayli grins and shakes her head. "Never mind. I'm morbid today. I didn't sleep, I'm apparently in the wrong bloody dimension, screaming fight at four in the morning, take your pick."

I just stare at her for a second. "...Wrong dimension?"

She makes a face. "Apparently."

"Screaming fight at four AM?"

"Marital issues."

"That's why the no sleep?"

"Pretty much."

"...This is a story I GOTTA hear."

She groans. "Got a couple hours?"

- Legolas -

This is a bloody nightmare. This is the day from hell. Sauron himself could not have engineered a day this bloody horrible.

I grit my teeth, nock another arrow, and fire. I have been at this for three hours. Another hour, and my shoulders will start to hurt. I have no idea what I'll do then. I'm not really fit for human company right now.

I'd probably kill somebody.

Sweet Elbereth, why do I let these things get to me like this? She doesn't mean anything by it, she just...Kayli is one of those people who needs to be constantly in motion, constantly doing something, constantly trying to help people. Just look at what she did in Gondor, taking those Men under her wing as she did.

I reach for another arrow, realize I don't have any more, and swear. I go to retrieve my arrows and I hear laughter. Very familiar laughter. Kayli's laughter. With someone else's. A Man's.

I look around, and see them. They're sitting by the edge of the lake, on a rock. He has bright red hair, and he's speckled, like Ron. Also, he looks like he's been lit on fire recently. He has very frizzy, bright red hair. And Kayli is sitting very close to him, listening to him raptly, and laughing.

I'm so very jealous I have to restrain myself from shooting him.

I clench my teeth and try to remember how to breathe. I feel like I've been punched.

Elbereth. Why is this so difficult.

She hasn't seen me. She's too wrapped up in this...this CHILD'S conversation. I retrieve the rest of my arrows and walk away. I don't want to see this. I don't want to think about this. This is a bloody nightmare.

I crouch by the edge of lake and splash water on my face. I haven't had any rest in days, and I'm extremely on edge. I could make excuses, and say my exhaustion is the reason I went at Kayli this morning. But although that is part of it, mostly it's the fact that I can't stand to be without her, and I am very, very afraid.

My brothers would be having the time of their lives if they could see me now. This brings another stab of pain, and I breathe until it passes.

The worst thing about being an Elf, other than the immortality, is that an Elf can die from grief. It can literally kill us. We can, very literally, die of a broken heart. Pining kills us. Part of what sustains us is our homes. The places and people that we are most connected with it. When apart from these, we pine, and we die.

I bury my face in my hands.

Now do you understand why I don't like it here?

I hear footsteps behind me. I glance up, and meet Harry's vivid green eyes. "Hey," he says, after a moment.

I rub my eyes and stand. "Hello."

Another long silence. "You look like Hell," he tells me carefully.

He's very right. That's the most logical thing I've heard all day.

"Thank you," I say. I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I'm pretty sure I fail.

Harry smiles at me. "Where's Kayli?" he asks.

And just like that, the jealousy is back, punching me in the stomach. I smile grimly, and gesture down the shore. "Down there. With someone who looks like your friend."

"Ah," he says. "Charlie. He's here because of the dragons."

I stare at him blankly. "Dragons?"

He smiles a bit grimly. "They're like guard dogs."

Another blank stare. "Guard dogs? You are using dragons...as guard dogs."

He laughs at my disbelieving expression. "Yeah. Seems kinda wrong, huh?"

I nod. "Oh, yes."

There's another moment of silence. "Kayli seemed upset this morning."

I wince. "We fought."

"She said something like that. Something about screaming fights, actually. And not speaking Elvish."

I wince again. I had said some rather ... unkind things at the end of our...discussion. Or screaming fight. That's probably more accurate. I sigh and rub my temples. This is very much not a good day. "I need to apologize to her. I was rather...horrible."

He nods and crouches down. "She loves you. She can't stand being like this with you." He grins at me, suddenly, looking so much younger than he did a moment ago. He's young, even for a human, I know that. But sometimes, he seems far older than even I. And almost as wise. Wiser, sometimes. As this proves, I think. "Besides, she'll probably think it's cute that you're jealous."

I almost growl. "I am not jealous."

Harry outright laughs at that, nearly falling over. "Liar." He straightens up, smirking. That expression reminds me of Elladan. It's frightening. I wish he'd stop. "If you were any more jealous, you'd be turning green."

I smile slightly and extend a hand to help him back to his feet. "Whatever you say."

We walk back towards the castle, in silence. "What do you do back in your world?" he asks suddenly. "I mean...do you have a, a job, or something?"

I think about that for a while. Do I have a job, as it is in this world? "I have a ... function," I tell him. "Before our Quest, my job was to protect my home. My father's realm is - was - a dangerous place, a land in the Shadow of the Dark Lord's servants."

Harry starts at Sauron's title. "You have a Dark Lord too?" he asks.

I smile grimly. "Had. He was destroyed, when Frodo Baggins destroyed his Ring of Power." I push my hair back behind my shoulders.

Harry looks interested. I take a deep breath. "All right," I say, and look at the trees overhead. "What do you wish to know?"

- Kayli -

Charlie has some funky tales to tell, let me tell you. Stories about Fred and George's experiments for their joke shop, tales of Ron's chess skills, Bill's tomb-breaking experiences, Percy's Ministry job, tales of family Quidditch games.

"You should try it," he tells me, after the end of one such tale. "Quidditch is the best."

I think about it. "Don't you play it on a broom? Like, hundreds off feet of the ground?"

He looks confused for a second and nods.

I shake my head. "Oh, no. Uh-uh. No way in hell."

He stares at me for a second, then starts to laugh. "You're afraid of heights!"

I'd argue, but it seems pointless. Besides, I just caught sight of Legolas and Harry by the lake, and I can't breathe.

Charlie stares at me for a second, looking concerned, then follows my gaze. "Ah," he murmurs. "This must be your husband." He gives me a wicked little grin. "Unless you have designs on Harry."

That snaps me out of it. I am so completely and utterly revolted by the thought that I don't know whether to laugh or hit him. Instead, I make a little gagging noise and stare at him incredulously. "EWW! He's a kid!"

Charlie almost topples over laughing. I take a deep breath and try to fix my hair. I need to talk to Legolas. I HAVE to talk to Legolas. I don't really want to, not after this morning, but I have to. God. Valar. Merlin. Whoever. Shoot me.

Charlie grins at me. "You're nervous about talking to your own husband?"

I glare at him. "Shut up, Weasley."

"Yes, ma'am."

Harry and Legolas seem to still be deep in conversation when I approach with Charlie. He seems to be telling Harry about Lothlorien. I crouch down next to him. "Don't forget the part about Hal."

Legolas looks up at me and grins, and I breathe. He takes my hand and pulls me down onto his lap. "I figured I'd leave that to you, love."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. You think the oh-so-wise-and-immortal Elvenkind would be beyond the petty jealousy crap, yeah? Oh, hell no. Legolas is one of the most jealous people I have ever met. And if there happens to be another guy around, he absolutely has to do the jealous alpha-male pissing contest bullshit to prove who I supposedly belong to.

Not that I'm complaining, or anything.

Charlie rather pointedly clears his throat. Legolas does a really poor job of hiding a smirk.

"Charlie Weasley, this is Legolas. Legolas, Charlie."

Charlie smirks. Legolas does one of those polite yet arrogant Elvish expressions that irritate the living crap out of me. I look at Harry and roll my eyes. He laughs. "Anyways," he says. "Who's Hal?"

I do my best evil smirk, and launch into the immortal tale of everyone's favorite Lothlorien border guard, and his intrepid and quite nude trek through the Golden Woods in search of his clothes. Somehow, I manage to keep the details straight and maintain it was Merry and Pippin's idea, entirely, and that Frodo and I were observers only.

By the time I'm finished, Harry has tipped over backward, he's laughing so hard, and Charlie is staring at me with respect. He presses a hand over his heart and bows, looking almost like he means it. He wouldn't make a bad Elf. "My lady, I stand in awe."

I smirk. I think this one is actually alot more evil than my other attempt. Which is kinda scary, because I'm not even trying. I bow back, which is kind of awkward since I'm on somebody's lap. "Thank you, m'Lord."

We get back into the tale, filling Harry in on Emmyn Muil, Rohan, the Battle of Helm's Deep, Gondor, Pelennor, the Battle of the Black Gate, and what we know of Sam and Frodo's trip through Mordor. Which isn't much, since Sam and Frodo don't particular like talking about it.

"So after the end, Eowyn and Faramir got married, right?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. We had a whole bunch of weddings over the next year. Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn, Sam and Rosie, me and Legolas." I stop and think. "Hopefully Boromir and Edana will get of their dead asses and get it over with soon."

Harry laughs. "You really are a matchmaker, aren't you?"

Legolas laughs. "Definitely."

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm cut off - remind me to find a different phrase for that, cut off sounds painful - by a voice calling from towards the castle. Harry's friend, the one with the strange eyes and funky vibes, is sprinting towards us. Wow. I've never seen a smoker run like that.

"Harry!" he yells.

Harry practically jumps to his feet, immediately intent and worried. "Remus!" He catches the man as he stumbles to a stop in front of us. "What's wrong?"

Remus doubles over, gasping for breath. "Death Eaters -" he manages. "Escaped from Azakaban."

Why do I get the sneaky suspicion that's not a good thing?

"What are Death Eaters?" Legolas asks. He stands and puts me back on my feet. His hands don't leave my waist.

"Lord Voldemort's followers," Harry says grimly. Charlie looks pale. "Anything else, Remus?"

Remus straightens up. "Dumbledore has reason to believe Voldemort is going to launch an attack on your aunt and uncle."

Legolas swears. I rake both hands through my hair. "So what do we do?"

Charlie looks at me. "We?"

I glare. "Yeah. We."

Remus shakes her head. "We can't ask you to get involved in this. It's too dangerous." He shrugs. "You're both to young to get involved in a battle against the Dark Lord, if you don't have to."

Legolas and I look at each other and laugh.

"I'm sorry," I say, after a minute. "But I've already been in a battle against a Dark Lord. I think I can handle another one. And as for the young bit...you're only really right about half of us."

Legolas shakes his head. "I am young," he tells me. He's grinning. "By Elven standards, at least."

Remus folds his arms over his chest. "How old are YOU, Kayli?" he demands.

I stop and think about it. "Uh...22. I think."

Charlie stares at me. "You don't look that young."

I glare at him. "Thanks."

He shakes his head quickly. "I mean, no, you LOOK very young, you just..."

"You have very wise eyes," Legolas says softly.

Remus shakes his head and glares at Legolas. "And how old are you?"

Legolas stops and think about it. "About three thousand, five hundred." He shrugs. "Give or take a few decades."

Remus's glare, like, doubles. "That's not amusing."

Legolas returns his gaze, very calmly. "I'm not joking."

Everyone just stops and stares at him for a second. Well, except me. I'm used to it. Believe me, I have spent more time contemplating his age and experience than is probably healthy.

No, not THAT kind of experience. Perverts.

Remus is just kind of staring at him, so that those pretty eyes take up most of his face. "Um..."

I smile at him. "Don't worry," I tell him, and pat his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us."

Remus turns and stares at me. He works his mouth for a second, then quickly shakes his head. "You know, after the last couple of years, that is really not hard to beleive." He manages a smile, and mostly fails. I've noticed that about him. He doesn't seem to smile very much. Not even when he tries. "Right. Talk to Dumbledore, he'll make the final decision." He turns around, wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders, and starts heading us back to the castle.

I lean into Legolas shoulder and frown. I'm thinking about Remus. See, there's this habit I have, of trying to solve the problems of the people around me. And if I can't do that, I just try to understand. This has given me all sorts of experience, which makes me think of something.

Remus has lost someone. Someone he loved very much. And there's this innate, morbid curiousity I have of wondering who it was. Yes, I am a sick, twisted individual. I know this.

I think it's the eyes. Those haunted, funky eyes. They look like Legolas's do, sometimes, when he's looking at me and think I'm not noticing. When he's thinking about me dying, and doesn't want me to know.

It happens more than I thought it would. Of course, when you're immortal, I guess time passes quicker.

Legolas loops an arm around my waist and kisses my hair. "Why so sad, love?"

I nod at Remus. "He's lost someone."

Legolas nods. "Yes."

See? He's really very observant. He kisses me quickly. "You can't help everyone, love."

I lean into him. "I know. But I can still try."

TBC...


	8. Grief, Tears, And Pirates?

- Remus -

I don't quite no what to make of Harry's new friends. The strange man, the one who claims to be so old, is rather frightening. He seems to be very gentle with the girl, not that she looks like she needs it, but it comes across the kind of love that reminds me of...reminds me of Sirius.

God, thinking about him hurts.

And there's something in the girls eyes, something gentle and knowing that scares the hell out of me. Her...husband, companion, whatever he is, doesn't seem to be watching anything but her, but I have a feeling he's the kind of person who lets nothing get by him. And there's so much magic in the two of them it makes my nose itch.

Goddamn werewolf sense. I don't know what to make of them. The senses or Harry's new friends.

Sirius would know. I wince at the expected stab of pain and try, once again, to not think about him. Ever again. Except the only way to not think about him is that I end up not thinking about him into a bottle, and Harry deserves better than to have the only real family he has left buried up to his eyeballs in a firewhiskey bottle and drunk off his ass again.

Harry peers at me intently. "Are you all right, Remus?"

I manage to nod. "I'm ok."

The blond man - Elf - guy, whatever he is - turns and peers at me, rather intently.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks. "You're rather pale."

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to explode. The full moon is only in two days, and I can't afford to lose my temper. Losing my temper, this close, and when I'm in this much pain and turmoil, might finally be the catalyst that brings out the wolf without the moon. And no Wolfsbane Potion in sight. I just shake my head. "I'm fine."

Harry and Charlie exchange a disbeleiving look, the pale-haired one remains absolutely expressionless, and the girl, Kayli, her expression is rather gentle. Like she sees inside me, and she knows everything, and she pities me.

I despise pity. I do not need pity.

I meet her eyes for a second. She returns the gaze with calm, jaded eyes, like she's seen it all and nothing I could possibly do would be any worse. I doubt she's seen anything like I could do, however. I wonder how someone so young - only 22 - has such jaded eyes. I did, at her age. Harry does, and he's even younger, but he's not quite so...again the word I fall to is jaded. Like nothing can shake her up. No matter how horrible people are, she's seen it before, perhaps even seen worse.

But what still surprises me is the way she relaxes into his arms, like it's the closest she's ever been to home. It's so surprising to see that in someone with eyes like hers.

Whoever said the eyes are the windows to the soul was right. However, with someone with eyes like that, it scares me. It means her soul is as scarred as her eyes.

I shake my head and turn away, but I can still feel her eyes following me. Pity. It's always pity.

We head for Dumbledore's office, and I snap out the password. Candy, the Headmaster has some sort of odd obsession with candy. Even blood lollipops, apparently. Harry screws up his face. "That's disgusting," he mutters.

"Blood lollipops?" Kayli asks. "Must be some kind of vampire treat. Do you have vampires?"

Behind her, her husband tenses. I really should learn his name. It's undoubtedly something I can't pronounce.

"Yes," I tell her shortly. "We have vampires."

"Huh," she says, completely unsurprised.

"Don't you have vampires where you're from?" Charlie asks as we head up the stairs.

Kayli shrugs.

"Yes," her husband answers shortly. "But very few."

Kayli glances back over her shoulder at him. Then she just shrugs again.

"Why only a few?" Harry asks curiously.

He sighs almost inaudibly. "They were spawned by the darkness from Mordor," he says. "Most dwelled in Mirkwood when the Shadow fell. We kill them whenever we come across them."

Both Charlie and Harry gape at him. "Vampires really aren't THAT bad," Charlie says.

Kayli just shrugs. "There are a lot of difference between Middle-Earth and your world, Charlie," she says drily. "The vampires in Middle-Earth are probably a lot worse. Stands to reason, anyway."

Charlie just shakes his head and goes to knock on the Headmasters door, and ends up knocking on the Headmaster's hat.

Kayli giggles. Charlie looks mortified. Dumbledore straightens his hat and beams at us. "Come in, come in. Ah, Kayli, Legolas! Welcome!"

The two of them exchange glances and shrug. We hurry into the Headmaster's office, and he gestures us into chairs. We're one chair short, but that doesn't seem to bother Kayli. She just slips into Legolas's lap, lays her head on his shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Dumbledore looks at them for a moment. MacGonall, standing behind him, looks like she's about to burst into a lecture about public displays of affection in front of the students. I can see Harry cringing out of the corner of my eye.

Dumbledore launches into the tale of the escaped Death Eaters, and how Bellatrix Lestrange had something to do with it. I tune him out. If I hear that ...that bitch's name one more time, I am not going to be held responsible for my own actions.

It's not the fact that she's a Death Eater. It's the fact that she took Sirius away from me. But I can't say anything about that, not in front of these people. Charlie might know, I don't know, but Harry doesn't, because Sirius didn't want to tell him, because he already had so much on his mind, and I don't want to tell him, because Sirius is dead now, and well, it really doesn't matter anymore, does it?

Nothing matters anymore. Nothing but Harry. Sometimes I even wonder if he would be better off if I were gone too. But then, I did promise Sirius, didn't I?

I come out of my morbid thoughts as Dumbledore is finishing off his explanation. "We are preparing to dispatch Aurors to your aunt and uncle, Harry," he says gently.

Harry is very pale. I don't think I've ever seen someone not a ghost that exact shade of white. He shakes his head. "They won't listen to wizards."

"Would they listen to a Muggle?" Kayli asks, finally opening her eyes.

Harry stares at her, then points in disbelief at Legolas. "Him? My uncle would call him a hippy and threaten to call the police."

Kayli laughs. "No, not him. Me."

"Do I even want to know what a hippy is?" Legolas asks, sounding resigned.

Kayli shakes her head. "I'll explain it later, love. But would they listen to me?" she asks again. "I can dress up like a respectable person." She glances down at her slit jeans. "And hide my blades better."

Harry seems to think about it for a moment. "Maybe," he says thoughtfully. "You look like a Muggle, so they won't be so insulted that a bunch of people in weird clothes showed up at their house." He pauses again at that, then nods. "Yeah. No offense, Professor, but she looks like somebody they'd be used to." He looks at her again, more thoughtfully. "But, um...no offense...but is there something you could do about the..." He makes a vague gesture down the left side of his face.

"The scar?" she asks, then traces it. Then she grins. "I kinda like it."

Harry grins back at her. "Wasn't that at the battle at Pelennor?" he asks curiously. Apparently, he's heard their tale.

She nods. "Yeah," she answers. "The one with the goofy eyes. Does anybody have some respectable clothes for me?"

Everyone starts bustling around. Professor MacGonagall rushes off to find Kayli something slightly less...guerilla warfare. Harry is sent back to his Common Room, under orders, since it's getting late. Legolas gives Kayli a quick kiss and heads out. Kayli goes with Dumbledore, and I head outside, by the lake, under the tree. The same tree I sat under on countless afternoons in school, with James and Sirius and Peter. Before Peter betrayed us, and James died, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. Before everything went to hell, in other words.

After a few minutes, I hear footsteps behind me. Werewolf hearing is good for something, at least. After a moment, Kayli crouches down next to me, staring out over the lake. "Harry's worried about you, you know."

I nod. "I know."

There's another long moment of silence. "Who did you lose?" she asks.

I stare at her. "What?" I am angry. I recognize this feeling, I remember it. It's been a long time since I felt anything but grief and worry. And pain. It feels good to be angry.

She returns my gaze calmly. "Who was she?"

I glare at her. "What gives you the right to ask me that question? And what the HELL makes you think I lost someone?"

She shrugs, settling down on the grass and looking back out over the lake. I'm not used to someone being so calm when I was so angry. James and Sirius were at least a little cowed by my rage, and Peter usually scurried away and hid. "You have a look in your eyes," she explains. "I've seen it before, more times than I can count. I know you've lost friends in this war, but you don't look like you're grieving for a friend. You look like you're grieving for a lover."

This isn't anger. This is rage. "That is none of your business," I say, as coldly as I can manage.

Kayli nods agreeably. "True," she says. "It's none of my business. But you're so wrapped up in your grief that you're not going to be any help to Harry when he really needs it. You're all he has left but his friends, you know. He needs you."

I jump to my feet, growling low in my throat. There's fear under the anger now, fear that she knows everything about me, everything that I"ve tried for so long to keep hidden. And the constant fear of the wolf. She looks up at me with infuriatingly calm eyes. "You don't know anything about what I've lost!" I'm yelling now, and I can't stop. "I've lost EVERYTHING! Everything's that's ever meant any thing to me has been TAKEN from me! You have no idea what that kind of pain does, do you?"

She laughs, suddenly. It's not humorous laughter, more like she has to laugh or she's going to cry. She doesn't strike me as the kind of person who likes to cry. The words I was going to say - yell - stick in my throat, and I can't say anything.

She laughs so hard she falls backwards. "Oh, absolutely," she says, still laughing. "What can I POSSIBLY know of pain? What could a child like me know about pain?" She rolls back into a crouching position. "I have to see that kind of pain everytime I look in my husband's eyes. I have to see the KNOWLEDGE that he is going to have to go on when I'm dead. I've seen it in the eyes of wives and children and parents when I have to go and tell them that their husband or father or son is DEAD. And I have to live with the knowledge that I am at least partly responsible for that pain because I led my Men into the battle that cost them their LIVES, and caused their families that pain. Do you know how much THAT hurts?"

I stare at her for a long moment, completely stunned. She sighs and bows her head, her hair hanging down. "Do you know what it feels like to be torn away from your family, your friends, everything you've ever known, to be dumped into some sort of strange fantasy-land, where the biggest thing on the minds of at least two people is how you're going to die?"

I sit down next to her, hard. "I'm sorry. I guess...I've lost everything, you know."

Kayli shakes her head slowly. "No, you haven't. You still have Harry."

I stare at her. "I haven't lost a lover," I tell her.

She tilts her head to look at me. "You're a terrible liar."

I laugh again. Sirius told me that, often. My laughter is more like hers now, broken and jagged, like you might cut yourself if you get to close to it. "All right, I lost a lover. They - they were the most important thing in my life. We...we were everything to each other, I guess."

Kayli just gazes at me for a long moment, smiling slightly, then shakes her head and starts digging through her pockets.

"What?" I demand, irritably.

She shrugs. "I guess that's just what I get for not keeping an open mind. I haven't heard anybody play the Pronoun Game for a long time."

"Pronoun Game?" I echo. I'd pretend I don't have any idea what she's talking about, but I do know.

"We. They. So I guess, earlier, I should've asked who HE was." Then she stops, in the act of pulling something out of her pocket. "Oh. VALAR. Sirius. Harry's godfather."

I smile. God, it hurts. "I loved him. We had to hide it, especially in front of the Weasley children. Molly didn't want her children exposed to perverts and shirt-lifters."

"Perverts and shirt-lifters," she muses aloud. Then she snorts laughter and falls over. "Oh, my Vala, that's perfect." She positively crows laughter, just laying there on the grass. "Oh, wow. She sounds like a bloody fundamentalist."

I shake my head at her. "I don't know why I told you that."

Kayli sits back up, shaking the grass out of her hair. "Because you can't tell Harry, and you can't tell any of the Weasley, 'cause Ron's mum would flip, and who the hell am I gonna tell anyways?"

I smile and touch her shoulder. "Thank you."

She shrugs and sprawls back on the grass. "I've seen it before," she says.

"Where?" I ask, before I can stop myself. Then I realize she's pried into my business, why the hell can't I pry into hers?

Kayli smiles. It's a very sad smile. "In Legolas's eyes," she says sadly after a while. "He's going to outlive me, by thousands of years." She shifts back into a sitting position. Honestly, she is one of the most restless people I have ever met. "Elves are immortal," and she says this like she's reciting something she's read that she doesn't like. "They can be slain in battle or they can die of grief." She shrugs. "At least I know I won't have to watch him die. Everyone else will die around me, but he'll outlive me." She shrugs again, and pulls a tie out of her pocket. "It's a small comfort, at least." She quickly twists her hair up and stands. "I'm going upstairs. Legolas will be wondering where I am." She bends down and kisses my cheek. "You should get some rest. Harry'll need you."

And she walks away.

- Kayli -

They get me all spiffed up in time to head to the Dursleys. Harry's been telling me pretty horrible stories about his family. I want to hurt them and I've never even met them.

And I am all spiffed up, and it's horrible. I'm wearing a long skirt, which is actually pretty cool. It's made out of patchwork denim, all different shades of blue. Professor MacGonagall objected to the white halter top, but I like it. I wore it in front of Legolas, and his eyes kind of glazed over. It was pretty awesome.

Um. Anyways. I guess the outfit isn't that bad. Hermione got me a nice coat, and I'm all set.

"We're taking a Portkey," Harry tells me a few minutes later. "I'm going to be outside. They won't want to see me."

Legolas is pacing. He got over the halter top thing fast, let me tell you. I wish it worked AFTER I put the coat on. But it kind of a relief to know that guys are guys, no matter what species they are. I nod to what Harry's saying, even though I don't know what the hell a Portkey is. Some kind of fast, magickal transportation, I assume. Legolas is just crabby because he's not coming with.

Hermione is doing my hair, which kind of worries me, considering what her hair usually looks like. No offense to Hermione, but she usually looks like she's wearing an animate shrub on her head. Sometimes it doesn't look like that, but if she's been really into her studying - which is most of the time - you get the feeling she has more important things on her mind than her hair.

I know the feeling.

She ties off the last braid, and says, "Wow, that actually doesn't look too bad."

Well, that's a load off my mind, believe me. I hate it when people sound that surprised about something that's attached to my head. Hermione hands me a mirror, and I look. She's tied my hair into two long, loose pigtails, tied off with blue ribbons. It actually looks kinda cute. Yes, I am surprised.

I stand up and toss my braids back. Legolas is trying not to laugh at me. I stick my tongue out at him and smooth my skirt. "OK, where do I catch this Portkey thing?"

"In my office," Dumbledore says, and beams at me. He smiels too much. Nobody is naturally that jolly. Me and Harry follow him back up to his office, and waiting there are two of the weirdest people I've seen since Hobbits and Elves. One of them is a young woman with bright blue hair and more peircings in her ears than me. She's wearing a T-shirt advertising some wizarding band, the Weird Sisters. The other one looks like a pirate. He's wearing a long coat, a funky hat, and he has a peg leg and one eye is way bigger than the other. One is black and beady, the other one is huge and bright blue. I look at his feet, expecting a peg leg.

He has one.

I look at him. "Avast, ye scurvy knave," I say, and salute.

Harry and the chick with the blue hair look at each other and break down laughing.

This is gonna be a great day.

TBC...


	9. A Trip To Privet Drive

- Kayli -

Wow. I've never actually seen a neighborhood where all the houses manage to look alike while being completely different styles. It's very, very depressing.

"It's that one," Harry says, and points. "Number 4."

I glance around. "This is a distressingly normal neighborhood," I tell them. "I keep wanting to see castles."

Harry laughs. "I know!"

I square my shoulders under the coat and walk up the walk. I ring the bell, glance at the fancy car in the drive, and shake my head. The door snaps open, and I smile at the woman in the doorway. She has a long nose, a horsey face, and an excess of neck. The only neck I've seen longer was on a goose.

I give her my best polite smile. "Hi. Mrs. Petunia Dursley?"

She smiles back. Sort of. It's more like a grimace. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you and your husband privately," I say, still smiling.

She peers around, to see if the neighbors are looking, from what Harry says. Then she gives a sharp little gesture to invite me in. I guess the clothes didn't come out as well as I was hoping. I am SO keeping this skirt anyway.

I take a seat on the couch and take the cup of tea she offers me. Her husband is large. And I mean LARGE. He has a huge mustache, and very little neck. I guess that makes up for his wife having extra. He's leering at me. That's very unpleasant. I start to twist my ring around my finger. Maybe he'll notice the WEDDING RING on my finger. Or maybe remember the wedding ring on his own.

I take a sip of my tea and smile. "I need to speak with you about your nephew."

And just like that, the leer is gone. If I wasn't armed, somebody that large turning that shade of purple would be threatening. But thankfully, I'm carrying three knives, and there's a scary man with a wand outside. I should be ok. And don't take the wand comment the wrong way. I know how you people think.

"We don't have a nephew," he snarls. It would probably be an impressive snarl, if I hadn't come face-to-snarl with many professional snarlers. I hang on to my professional, polite smile.

"You DO have a nephew," I inform him firmly, "and most of the time, you manage to ignore and degrade him, and ignore the fact that he's in nearly constant danger. But you are going to have to live with it. Lord Voldemort has you marked for death."

Mrs. Dursley lets out a strangled little scream. I set down my tea and bolt into the kitchen. I get some cold water from the faucet and hurry back in. I press the cup into her hands and sit her down. "Breathe, Mrs. Dursley. You need to breathe, or you're going to pass out."

She manages to nod. "Why us?"

Mr. Dursley explodes. "It's because of that no good little...little BASTARD!"

OK, that's it. NOW I'm pissed. "HEY! Look, I hate to break it to you, No-Neck, but it's not Harry's fault! It must be nice to be able to pin all of your petty bullshit on that kid, but even if his parents died, or if he had gone to his godfather, Voldemort would probably still be coming after you! Probably not this soon, but you'd be dead anyway! You're not magical, and that means you're marked, Dursley. Live with it."

Yes, I realize there's no way I know that. I'm jumping to conclusions. Shh. I won't tell if you don't.

I sigh and pull on one of my braids. It's a habit I have. If my hair is loose, I run my hands through it. If it's tied up, or bound, I just pull on it. This is how I get a lot of my headaches. Right now, I'm wishing I knew the whole story. At this exact moment, I'm wishing I'd read all of the Harry Potter books, instead of just skimming through them. Maybe THEN I'd know this shit.

Mrs. Dursley draws in a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes," she says, and takes another deep breath. "You're right, of course. I'm Lily's sister. If she hadn't died...well, I'd be marked anyway, because she wouldn't have stopped fighting him, and neither would have her husband. He would have tried to kill us just because I was related to Lily and you married me."

Mr. Dursley just gapes at her. She stares at her toes. "I'm sorry, Vernon," she whispers, and wipes her eyes.

God, this is horrible. This just makes me remember visiting families to inform them their loved ones are dead. "It's not your fault, Mrs. Dursley," I say gently. "But we need to get you out of here."

Mr. Dursley draws up to his full height. "We, miss, are not going anywhere." He takes a deep breath and prepares to launch off. I roll my eyes and keep his wife drinking. "We've had nothing but trouble since that little monster came to live with us!" he yells. "He blows up my sister, ruins my promotion, sics his crazy godfather on us, brings those freaks to our HOME, has that strange man with the peg leg THREATEN us - US- and sics those dementoids on our SON!"

"Is he always like this?" I ask his wife.

She giggles.

"And what's a dementoid?" I ask.

She giggles again. Then she wipes her eyes on her apron and stands up. "She's right, Vernon."

He puffs out his chest. "She most certainly is not!" he bellows. "And I refuse to leave this house because some - some FREAK thinks we might be threatened by some other freak!"

OK, I have had ENOUGH of this pompous windbag. I slam the glass down on the table. "You wouldn't know the truth if it walked up and bit your mustache!" I snap.

He gets in my face, which is the worst thing he can do. I do NOT like people in my face. I stand up, which isn't as threatening as it would've been had he been about fifty pounds lighter. "I KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT ALL OF YOU!" he bellows. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WE'VE PUT UP WITH WHILE HE'S BEEN HERE!"

"BUT I KNOW WHAT HE'S HAD TO PUT UP WITH WHILE HE'S BEEN HERE!" I shriek back, stealing his caps lock. "HE'S PUT UP WITH CONSTANT BEATINGS, BEING LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS!"

I take deep breath and an make an attempt to reel my temper back in. "You have done nothing to deserve even saying that you're RELATED to him, let alone that you're his mother's brother-in-law." I toss one of my braids back behind my shoulder. "Where's your son?"

Petunia sniffles. "He's at one of his little friends, he's so popular, you know..."

Uh-huh. Yeah. Of course he is. Parental denial is a beautiful thing. I wish MY parents had suffered from it. But the always knew what I was doing, even when I tried to deny it. "Yeah, of course he is. When is he gonna be home?"

Petunia sniffles again. "In a few hours."

I sigh and pull on my hair. I'm gonna have a headache, and not just from the hair-pulling. "Can you call him, or something?"

Vernon puffs out his chest again. I am getting so sick of listening to this pompous windbag. He launches into another spiel. "We are not LEAVING!"

I stand up, folding my arms over my chest. "Yeah? Would you rather just stay here, and, oh, DIE?"

He glares at me. His mustache bristles when he does that. I try to hang on to my angry expression. It looks like he has a mouse under his nose. I try not to giggle. "YOU HAVE NOT RIGHT TO TELL US WHAT TO DO AND WHERE TO GO!"

I sigh. Harry was right when he said they were overly difficult. I suddenly remember who's waiting outside, and smirk. "Hey, do remember the guy from the train station? King's Cross, right? The one with the peg leg and the weird eyes?"

Petunia lets out a squeak. Vernon goes from purple to pale. It's something rather surprising. I didn't know people could change color that fast. It's probably not healthy. I smile, unpleasantly. "He's waiting outside."

Mrs. Dursley sniffles. "I'll call the Polkisses." And she bolts for the next room.

I fold my arms, sit down on the couch, and wait.

After a minute, Vernon clears his throat. "So...where are you going to take us?"

I smile at him, the slyest, most unpleasant smile I can manage. "Hogwarts."

- Harry -

She's been in there way too long. It's starting to make me nervous. Not that Uncle Vernon's hurt her, more like Kayli's hurt Uncle Vernon. I wouldn't worry about anyone else, but with her, it's kind of hard to tell. She's got a temper.

Oh, this is horrible. I look around at everybody else. Moody's pacing, muttering something that sounds like 'Constant Vigilance.' Tonks is routinely changing the color of her hair. Remus is pacing and smoking. I didn't even know he smoked. Of course, a lot of things have changed since Sirius died. He might not have smoked before Sirius died.

He thinks I don't know about him and Sirius. I think they thought I'd be offended. Or maybe disgusted.

I'm not. I wouldn't have been, if they'd told me. But Sirius was on the run, and Remus is a werewolf, and they had enough trouble without adding worrying about how I would react to the whole thing. Or the Weasleys. I don't reckon Mrs. Weasley would have been thrilled, knowing what her children would be exposed to. Like it's contagious or something.

Remus lights another cigarette off the butt of the other one, then drops it and crushes it out with his shoe. He's nervous. I've only ever seen people smoke like that when they were nervous.

Not that I've seen very many people smoke. The Dursleys wouldn't let any one smoke in THEIR nice clean house, oh no. Never.

Kayli comes out a few minutes later. She actually looks very nice in the clothes Hermione and Professor MacGonagall made for her. She walks in that skirt like she wears one all the time. And maybe she does.

Remus eyes her. Moody comes to a stop and glares at her. Tonks peers at her in some kind of fascination, like she's looking at some kind of strange new breed.

"They agreed?" Moody growls.

Kayli nods. "Aye, sir."

Tonks snickers. Moody gives her a nasty glare, then stumps away, muttering about the 'younger generation' and 'not taking their work seriously' and 'nobody respects their elders anymore.' Tonks rolls her eyes. Remus is still looking intently at Kayli.

"How did you get them to change their minds?" he asks.

Kayli shrugs. "I threatened them."

Moody brightens. "Good girl."

She dips a little curtsy. She makes that looks absolutely perfect, like she's used to doing it. "Thank you, kind sir."

Tonks peers at her intently. "You don't look very threatening. I mean, no offense, but you don't really l look like you could swat a fly."

Kayli just kind of smiles, a sad little smile. "Appearances can be deceiving."

Tonks just shakes her head.

A few minutes later, the Dursleys come piling out of the house, Dudley with them. I don't know what he told his gang. Or his 'little friends,' as Aunt Petunia likes to call them.

"Well, boy?" Uncle Vernon growls. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Kayli steps in between us. "He doesn't have to say anything to you. We need to get going, Mr. Dursley. Now."

Dudley glares at the car. "We can't all fit in THERE."

Kayli rolls her eyes. "It's magically enhanced, genuis. Let's get moving. Hey, you! Smelly guy behind the wheel! Pop the trunk?"

"Wassat?"

"Open the boot, Dung," Remus calls.

Kayli rolls her eyes. "How fitting," she mutters.

Dudley drops his bags. "I'm not leaving," he says. "I won't go."

Dung pops the boot open. Kayli grabs Dudley's bags, tosses them in, then whirls to face Dudley. "Listen to me carefully, Moby Dick. If you do not get in the car, you are going to die. If you stay here, you are going to die. Do you understand that?"

Dudley glares at him, his lower lip trembling. For once, I don't think he's doing it on purpose. "It's his fault," he snaps, and glares at me.

Kayli rolls her eyes. "Get in the car, Slimer. Let's go."

I break down laughing. Kayli makes a shooing motion at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Dudley stays where he is, even when they get in.

"Get. In. The. Bloody. Car," Kayli growls.

"Listen, son - " Remus starts.

"Don't call me that!" Dudley yells.

Kayli grabs him by the collar and throws him at the car. "Just get in the fucking car," she snaps. "Remus, you ride with them." She waves a hand at me. "You, Harry, up front with the smelly guy. Blue-haired chick, you and me are taking the Portkey. If I have to ride with that kid, I'll kill him."

I grin. Finally. This might be kind of wrong, but I'm enjoying the hell out of this. After all the crap Dudley's always given me, it's nice to see him get his ass handed to him. By a girl smaller than he is. I climb in next to Dung. Life might not be too good, but it's not as bad as it was.

TBC...


	10. Interlude Boromir

I miss my sister. I miss Legolas. I miss both of them.

Where the hell could they have gone off to? I mean, I realize newlyweds like to be alone, but this is getting ridiculous.

Not to mention the fact that it's completely unlike them. They have responsibilities, and they know them well. Kayli has her duties to her king and to her Men, and Legolas has Southern Ithilien to run. They would at least let us know where to find them, in case of an emergency. In case of anything.

But there's nothing. They're just...gone.

It worries me. For all we know, they could be dead.

I shake my head quickly and cross to the window. I stare out for a moment, like staring will make them magically appear, and Kayli will smile, and chide me for worrying, saying she's a big girl and she can take care of herself. Or something similiar. And Legolas will just smile that wise, enigmatic, meaningless Elven smile of his, and caress her hair or face when he thinks no ones watching.

I screw my eyes shut and mentally curse myself. This maudlin approach is getting us nowhere.

Behind me, I can hear Elladan and Elrohir railing against Elessar for his lack of action. Ordinarily, I would defend my King. But how can I, when I agree with everything those two are saying? How can I, when I want to say the same things?

Behind me, Faramir sighs. He has taken up position behind Eowyn, his hands on her shoulders, part massaging, part retsraining. Eowyn wants to be out and about, on her feet, looking for her friends. It's not her nature to sit still. It's not in mine, either.

I run my hands through my hair. For all I know, my sister could be dead. This is of great concern to me. Why can Elessar not SEE this?

I watch as Queen Arwen rises to her feet and puts a restraining hand on the arm of one of her brothers. "Elladan," she says gently. "We know you are concerned. WE are concerned. They are our friends as well. But there is only so much we can do."

"But you're not even LOOKING for them," the other brother cries.

Elessar sighs. "We've had parties of Men search all of Gondor. Practically every citizen of this country has been questioned. Eomer has done the same for Rohan, as have the Hobbits for the Shire. Messengers have been sent to Imladris and Lasgalen. We have searched the borders of Mordor for signs, and yet we have found nothing. What else do you suggest we do?"

There's a long moment of silence, and the Elladan makes a noise like a growl and slams out.

Elrohir sighs and rubs a hand over his neatly braided hair. I will never understand this obsession Elves have with hair, their own or other people's. Practically every time you look at Legolas, he's running his hands over Kayli's hair. And to think, Kayli doesn't think I'm the observant brother.

Well, I'm not. But that's really not the point. It couldn't be more obvious, so a blind man could see it. So anybody but THEM could see it. Of course, I think that when it comes to matters of the heart, those closest to it said matters can never see it clearly.

And I am living proof.

I return to staring out the window, a smile crossing my face as I think of Edana. And my sister had no small part to play in that, as well as everything else that's happened around here lately.

I sigh and turn back to the King. He is standing in the center of the room, his face in Arwen's hair. I leave quietly. Elessar and Arwen are as struck by everything as we are.

I miss my sister.

TBC...


	11. E2 Strike Back!

Hermione -

It's going to be hard adjusting to having the Dursleys hanging around. Mr. Dursley jumps whenever someone has a wand, the Slytherins keep hexing Dudley, and Mrs. Dursley cries alot.

Dumbledore tries his best to make them comfortable, but really, I don't think anything he can do will make it better for them. They are Muggles, after all, Muggles who know the magic exists and doesn't want anything to do with it.

Of course, having to restrain Ron from hexing Dudley every time he sees him is starting to wear me down.

Harry's taking it remarkable well. He avoids them at whatever cost. If he sees any of them, he immediately turns around and heads in the opposite direction. I'm just glad Fred and George aren't here this year. They would never have left Dudley alone, and they might have given Mr. Dursley a few things to think about as well.

"We're going into the Forbidden Forest for Care of Magical Creatures," Ron tells me.

Harry grins. "There might be spiders," he says, and makes crawling motions with his hands up Ron's arm.

Ron slaps his hands away and glares. "Hagrid wouldn't do that!" he says. "...Would he?"

"Yes," I say.

"Definitely," Harry adds. He's still grinning.

It's nice to see Harry smile. It's been a very, VERY long time since anyone saw Harry smile so freely. But I suppose even the Boy Who Lived is allowed to wake up in a good mood, even if he usually doesn't.

We all gather around Hagrid at the beginning of class. I'm paying more attention to Harry and Ron - especially Ron, I suppose I can admit that to myself even if I would rather die than admit it to anyone else - than the class. It's a good thing I don't bring THAT up to anyone else, especially those two. They'd never believe me. They think class is what my life revolves around.

They're wrong, you know. I mean, I do care a great deal about class, and learning new things is always wonderful. I'm a very big believer in that you can never have too much knowledge. Ron would argue with that, saying that eventually, you COULD know too much, that there's no possible way you could remember it all and that eventually it would just leak out your ears. Harry would argue with it as well, saying it's the pursuit of knowledge that made Voldemort what he is. Harry's point is actually much better than Ron's.

We follow as Hagrid leads into the Forest. Harry and Ron are still talking excitedly about some Quidditch play, Harry saying that he read about it in some book. I suppose I should be grateful that at least Quidditch gets them reading.

And honestly, I don't know why they don't think that reading can prepare them for things! Reading about how other people reacted in situations is a wonderful way to learn how to react yourself, or at least learn from their mistakes! Honestly. BOYS. They just don't UNDERSTAND.

Of course, I really don't think anything could have prepared us for what's happening now, as we are being threatened by two strange men with bows.

If you want to call them men. I don't think they are, really. I think they're Elves, like Legolas. Only not blond.

And they were arguing, apparently, before they stuck arrows in Hagrid's face. Well, chest. Hagrid's a lot taller than them.

The one on the left tilts his head back. "Well. You are a tall one, aren't you?"

The other one groans. I notice - for the first time, that's simply SHAMEFUL, my brain must be asleep - that they look exactly alike. His twin ignores him, still smiling pleasantly at Hagrid. "I don't suppose you know the way to our home, would you?" he asks, still pleasant as pie.

Hagrid just gapes at him for a moment. "Who're ye?" he demands.

Harry clears his throat. "Um, Hagrid? I think I might know."

Both of the strangers turn to look at him. "Really?" says the one who hasn't spoken yet, in a polite tone that manages to convey worlds of sarcasm without being impolite. Now THAT is diplomacy.

His twin elbows him. And then the sarcastic one rounds on him, eyes blazing - I didn't even know eyes COULD blaze - and looks ready to deck him.

"You're Elladan and Elrohir, aren't you?" Harry says.

They both turn back to him, at the same time, literally identical expressions of shock on their faces. "How do you know that?" one of them asks.

"We've never seen you before," says the other one.

We, not I. That's a peculiar concept.

"So how do you know US, young one, if WE don't know you?"

Harry looks a little nervous. I would, too. They seem...inexplicably, incredibly, out-there SCARY. And old. And very, very wise.

"Um, Kayli mentioned you."

Both faces light up at the mention of her name. God, these two can't be in love with her too, can they? Some girls have all the luck, really. I can't make Ron LOOK at me twice, and she has blokes falling all over her. That's just not fair.

"She's here?" one of them asks.

"You mean -"

"That she left Middle-Earth -"

"- and she landed HERE -"

" - probably the same way we did -"

" - I TOLD you not to play with that thing -"

" - you know, 'Ro, if it wasn't for me -"

" - I'd never have any fun, yes, I know -"

" - And Legolas! I bet Legolas is here too -"

" - of COURSE he is, where else would he be?"

"Those two are rather attached, aren't they?"

"At the hips."

There's a moment of silence.

"Did anyone follow that?" Malfoy asks after a moment.

"I did," Ron says. Everyone turns to stare at him. He shrugs. "Fred and George."

It's sad when it only takes two names to explain something. Of course, those two names explain half of the really strange and frightening things at Hogwarts. There's still a bit of that swamp they put up for Umbridge roped off on the third floor.

"Can we see them?" one of them says.

"We'd really, really like to see them."

"Very much."

"Yes."

They stare at Hagrid for a second. Hagrid just looks stunned.

"Um, Hagrid?" Ron says. "We can take them back up to the castle. I think Kayli and Legolas would really like to see them as well."

"Um, well, yes, yes," Hagrid says. "Harry, Hermione, Ron, take them up to the castle." He pauses, then eyes thier weapons. "But ye can go only on the condition that ye leave those wi' me."

The two of them exchange a look. It lasts a moment. It's almost like they're...communicating, somehow. Without words. Or maybe there ARE words, and none of us can hear them. Ron elbows me gently. "Stop that," he whispers. "This isn't the time to be havin' deep and meaningful thoughts, 'Mione."

I smirk. I feel like Malfoy for one uncomfortable second, but then I get over it. At least I'm not a ferret. "Sorry, Ron. I'll try to keep it down."

He grins at me.

At the exact same moment, both men - Elves - whatever they are - hold out their bows, arrows, and swords. "Take them."

"We don't need them."

"We will want them back, however."

"Yes, yes," Hagrid says. "All right, go with those three," he gestures at us. "And do whatever they tell ya to do. They'll hex ya if ye don't."

They exchange another look. One of them mouths the words 'hex'; the other one shrugs. Apparently, hexes aren't big in Middle-Earth. They walk over to us, looking at us with interest. Like we're some sort of strange and interesting new life form.

"Um, hi," Harry says. "I"m Harry Potter, this is Ron Weasley, and this is Hermione Granger. And...uh, which one of you is which?"

"I'm Elladan, this is Elrohir," says one of them. I really don't see any difference.

"Kayli calls us Ellahir. It works," says the other one.

"We both answer."

Harry grins.

"Just like Fred and George," Ron mutters.

Harry's smile turns slightly nervous. "Well, the castle is up this way," he says and gestures.

One twin bows. "Lead on, m'Lord."

Harry -

They remind me, very strangely, of Fred and George. I suppose that's not too odd, since Fred and George - or Gred and Forge, as they called themselves once - are the only other twins I know.

"So, uh, you two are...Elves?" Ron says after awhile.

Hermione immediately perks up. She always does that when she thinks she might be learning something.

"In a way," says the one on the left - Elrohir, I think.

"How can you be Elves in a way?" Ron asks curiously.

One of them - the more serious one, I'm guessing - gives him a curious look, like he's wondering why we want to know. Hey, we're kids. We're naturally curious.

"We have human blood," he explains. "It's a while back, a few generations, but it's enough so that we don't qualify as full Elves."

We all stare at them. They both shrug. In time with each other. It's kinda cool, in a disturbing kind of way.

"So...if you're not Elves, and you're not men, then what are you?" I ask.

"Well, if you mean men as in male, then we definitely are," says the more light-hearted one. "But if you mean Men as in HUMAN, we're not that either. The technical term is 'Peredhil' meaning half-Elf."

"But you're NOT half-Elves," Hermione says. She's got that little wrinkle between her brows that means she's thinking and that Ron's always staring at like it's the best thing he's ever seen. He probably just thinks it's adorable. He thinks a lot of the stuff she does is adorable. It's kind of disgusting. "If the human blood is a few generations back, then you would be closer to full-blooded Elves than Men."

One twin taps the other on the arm. "YOU explain it, 'Ro," he says. "I'll fall asleep."

So Hermione and the one Elf immediately fall into a deep conversation about genetics. The other twin looks at us and shrugs. He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder at his twin. "He's the more intelligent of the two of us," he says, like it explains everything. And, hey, to him, maybe it does. "He knows more about history and family and all that stuff than I do."

Ron and I exchange glances. "You must be Elladan," I say, dredging through my memories of what I was told about the twins. "Kayli says you're the one with the sense of humor, and Elrohir's the practical one."

"Infinitely true, though a little mundane on the description," he replies. "I am the one with a light-hearted look on life, the ability to see humor in all situations, or to create humor where there is none. HE, on the other hand," again the thumb-over-the-shoulder bit, "is a dry, humorless, pessimistic stick-in-the-mud who insists on practicality and ruining my fun."

The other twin makes a hand gesture that's probably very rude. But he doesn't break the stride of his conversation. Elladan blows him a kiss.

And then his expression turns serious. Probably not a good sign on someone, who, in his own words, 'creates humor where there is none.' Note to self: Never, ever let him meet Fred and George.

"Are they all right? Legolas and Kayli, I mean."

Ron and I both nod. "They're fine. They want to go home, and Kayli...well, Kayli's going a little stir-crazy."

The Elf smiles fondly. "She doesn't like standing still," he explains, like we hadn't already figured this part out. "She CONSTANTLY has to be doing something. Even when the Quest stopped and relaxed in 'Lorien, the way I understand things she didn't stop moving once."

Ron laughs. "Yeah, but ain't she kind of soft-hearted? Harry's already managed to con her into teaching him how to fight."

Elladan's eyes go wide. "But he's too young!"

At the same time, I say "I didn't con her!"

Elladan shakes his head. "Kayli is not one to be tricked into anything," he says firmly. "She is one of the most cynical people I have ever met. And I'm including my own brother in this. She would not agree to do such a thing unless she knew the whys, all the reasons, no matter how small."

I make face. She certainly did need to have all the reasons. Ron nods slowly. "I wish Mum would let her teach me," he says. He says this in the way he says all things that disappoint him. Like it's horrible, and it crushes his entire world. If he wasn't my best mate, I'd think he was a girl.

I did not just say that. Or think it. Well, I did, but I didn't mean it. I don't know why he's so bloody disappointed, anyway. It's a dangerous thing to learn, and I feel much better knowing that Ron and Hermione and the others don't have to learn something like it.

"Why do you wish to learn?" Elladan asks.

Ron's expression goes from glum to determined. "Harry's my best mate," he says. "He doesn't need to go fight the Dark Lord alone."

Elladan stops in his tracks and goes pale. "...Dark Lord? He wouldn't happen to be a giant flaming eyeball, would he?"

Me and Ron exchange another glance. This world is mighty strange, for people to ask questions like that and not consider them strange. "Um...no."

He sighs. "Thank Elbereth."

Ron shakes his head, and we try to catch up to Hermione and Elrohir, who didn't even stop talking long enough to notice we'd stopped moving. "Is it really that strange in your world, where you can ask questions like that and not think they're strange."

He smiles wryly. "I'm sure your world will seem as strange to me as mine seems to you, my friend."

TBC...

OK, here it is, the review-reply section is back up and running.

Nota Lone - Um, ow. Do you need aspirin, or something? That had to hurt.

Hael - Looks like you were right! Who else but the twins?

Sylvia Viridian - Nothing would make me happier. And I greatly - GREATLY - recommend Good Omens. It is seriously one of the funniest bloody books ever written. Even my MOTHER agrees, and Mum ain't real big on humor books. And your insights would be treasured, just as your insights on these two have been treasured.

Ebon Oleander Wenham - Thank you. There has to be SOMETHING going on back in ME, I thought. And there were some requests for this (I think that might've been you, actually.)

crazyroninchick - Thank you. I do feel sorry for Boromir. Actually, that came about when I was wondering 'Hey, now, what about the folks back home?'

A note - In a previous chapter, the 'Adult Resignation Form' was mentioned. This actually exists, and is as cute as hell. If anybody wants to see it, tell me and I'll email it to you.

A further note - I have posted another fic in the Good Omens section. If you aren't familiar with that particular peice of literary genuis, you should be. It's an awesome, awesome book. And then you can read my fic. Um...Please?

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I love you all, very much, and everything you say is greatly appreciated.


	12. Reunions And Lesson Plans

-- Elladan --

It's strange to see Kayli outside the setting of Gondor. I think we -- that is to say, 'Ro and I -- became so used to seeing her wrapped up in the training of her Men or in some other task to her King, that it's just so hard to imagine her as anything other than an important part of the heirarchy of that kingdom.

And yet here she is, deep in discussion with a man with flaming red hair, all the while shaking her head frantically. For some reason, he seems to be holding a broom, and being very friendly. I wonder if he would be this friendly were Legolas looking over his shoulder.

"Is he really gonna try to teach her Quidditch?" Ron asks. There is a definite resemblence between him and Kayli's companion. I think it's the hair.

Harry shrugs. "I guess."

"He'll never get her off the ground," Hermione says. "From what I understand, she's petrified of heights."

"You understand correctly," 'Ro says drily. "What exactly is he trying to get her to do?"

Ron and Harry exchange glances. "Well," Harry says slowly. "I think he's trying to teach her to play Quidditch. It's a game we play on a broom."

Now 'Ro and I play eye-tag. "On...a broom," I say slowly, like saying it more slowly will make it make sense. It doesn't work.

"They're enchanted," the girl says, not lifting her eyes from her book. "They fly."

"Flying...brooms?" 'Ro asks. He sounds as incredulous as I feel.

"Yeah, it's really awesome!" Ron enthuses, and launches into this long spiel about balls and hoops and brooms and score-keeping. I tune him out and go back to watching Kayli. She's backing away from the redhead, shaking her head and holding her hands up defensively.

I think I wish Legolas could see this. His jealousy would amuse me.

We get close enough to hear their conversation, and I can hear Kayli strenuous objecting to the fact that this sport makes her feet leave the ground. I smirk.

"No, Charlie. No. Uh-uh. No way. Not a chance. None. Nada," she says, still backing away slowly, eyeing the broom like it might bite her. "My feet do not leave the ground unless forced. Especially not that MUCH off the ground. My feet LIKE the ground."

Next to me, 'Ro grins.

"Oh, come on, Kayli," the boy says, his tone charming. "It won't hurt you."

"No, but hitting the ground will," she replies.

"I won't let you fall," he says, being as charming as possible. He is charming. But nothing on us, of course. Or me, at least. 'Ro doesn't have to much in the charm department.

My twin gives me a sharp dig in the ribs and a glare. Ooops. Forgot to tone down the twinspeak there. I smirk at him.

"No," she says flatly. It's her best tone of finality. "You have no idea how clumsy I am, Charlie."

"I've seen you use your knives," he protests. "Nobody who can move like that is that clumsy!"

I clear my throat. "Want to bet?"

They both jump, and turn. Kayli's expression goes from startlement to shock, to pure, joyous recognition. It's the best thing I've seen in days.

Charlie --

I don't think I've ever seen somone so happy to see someone else in my whole life. She let out what was kind of a squeal and took a running leap at one of them, wrapping both arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. He lets out a laugh and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up easily and spinning her around. She's laughing the whole time.

He sets her back on her feet and she turns to the other one, who looks just like the first one, and wraps her arms around his neck before giving him a loud, wet-sounding kiss on one cheek. He manages to laugh, blush, and half-heartedly push her away all at once.

"What the hell are you two DOING here?" she asks, and, just like that, the questions all start tumbling out after each other. "When did you get here? Fuck that, HOW did you get here? How's everything back home? WHY are you here? Do you know how to get back? What's going on? Have I missed anything?"

The one on the left, the one she kissed, laughs. "Slow down, Kayli. You'll have your answers, I assure you." He glances at his brother. "Did you get all the questions, brother?"

Oh, good Lord, twins. Another Fred and George. I can see it happening. I make a quick mental note to hide all my underwear, not accept any food or drinks they give me, and check my soap and shampoo before I use them, just so I don't turn out green or something.

The other twin takes a deep breath. "In order asked: We have no idea, about half an hour ago, some kind of magic, fine, don't know that either, don't know that, or that, and the only things you've missed have been us panicking over not knowing where the hell you are. Other than that? Everything's fine."

Kayli sighs and rubs her temples. "Oh, fuck," she mutters, and sits down on the ground. Hard. "I don't know what we're going to do."

The two of them exchange a glance. Kayli told me about them, but I can't remember their names. "Is Legolas here as well?" one asks slowly.

Kayli looks up, but not at them, like she's just answering a voice out of nowhere. "What? Yeah, of course. He's up at the castle." She holds out one hand, and both of them take it, pulling her to her feet easily. "We should go see if Dumbledore has any idea what the hell is going on."

"Who's Dumbledore?"

"And who's your friend?" The twin who asks this question is looking directly at me, curiously. Like I'm some kind of fascinating new breed. I don't like that look. Like just seeing me amuses him. Unfortunately, it didn't have the same effect on her husband.

"Oh!" Kayli says, spinning back around. "Charlie! Elladan, Elrohir, this is Charlie Weasley, a friend. Charlie, this is Elladan and Elrohir, those friends I was telling you about."

"A friend?" one asks, arching an eyebrow. That expression makes me want to hit him. Hard.

Kayli glares at him, apparently feeling the same way. "Yeah," she snaps. "A friend. Now can we get up to the castle, please? Legolas is going to want to punch you. I hope he breaks your nose." A pause. "Or at least smushes it."

His twin laughs at him. "He just might!"

Kayli comes over and gives me a quick hug. "Ignore them, Charlie," she says softly. "They're a pain in the ass, but they're not all that bad."

I smile. "I just don't want to imagine them meeting my brothers."

She looks confused for a moment, then her eyes widen in horror. "That would...suck," she says finally, and that, I do believe, is the understatement of the century.

Kayli --

It's just like being home, only not. Elrohir is still so practical it's painful, and Elladan is cruisin' for a bruisin'. See? Just like home.

I can't wait to see Legolas's face when he sees these two. I don't know if it'll be relief, surprise, or utter despair, but I'm going for a combination of the three. But first, before we reach the castle, 'Dan nearly trips over that blonde kid with the pointy chin I met on my little tour of the castle. The one with the silly French name. Dagon? Dragon? Something silly like that.

He's staring intently at a letter in his hands, holding it like a snake. Like he's afraid it's going to rush up and bite him. He glances up at us, jumps, then glares and stuffs the letter into his robes. He jumps to his feet, looks at us, and does that haughty, superior expression King Thranduil has when he's really pissed off. Thranduil does it better. Of course, he's had a lot more practice, too.

The kid storms off, nose in the air. 'Dan and 'Ro look at me with confused expressions. I just shrug. I have no idea what his problem is. We go in looking for a Professor. Unfortunately, the first Professor we find is Trelawney, the Divination Professor, in an argument with Firenze, the other Divination Professor, who also happens to be a centaur.

Coming here made me glad I'd read Piers Anthony's Xanth novels. They let me put names to a lot of the stuff here. Like the guy with four hooves and a hairy tail.

Next to me, 'Ro jumps. 'Dan swears. There aren't a lot of centaurs in Middle-Earth.

I just shake my head. Even the really weird shit is starting to be commonplace. Centaurs, moving portraits, migrating staircases, secret passages and barmy Headmasters.

Barmy. Jesus.

I've already been here to long. I'm starting to talk like these people. I've even picked up the nifty little accent. The twins keep giving me odd glances when it comes out really strong.

But on the note of how commonplace this stuff has become. I could die happy if I saw a single Dwarf, Hobbit, or snippy bleached wizard. You know it's getting to be bad when I'd be happy to see Gandalf.

"Ah, Kayli," says a happy voice from behind us.

All three of us turn at once. Professor Dumbledore is standing in the middle of the corridor. He glances from twin, to twin, to me. "Dear me," he says mildly. "New guests."

A talent for understatement, that man. Amazing.

He gives me a big, cheerful grin. "Who are your friends, my dear?"

"Professor Dumbledore, this is Elladan, and that one's Elrohir, friends of mine from home. Guys, this is Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of this school."

They press their hands over their hearts and bow.

Dumbledore peers at them intently. "Which one is which, Kayli?"

"Left is Elladan, right is Elrohir," I tell him. If he can tell on such short acquaintence, he has better eyes than I do. It took me six months to be able to tell them apart, unless 'Dan was smirking.

But Dumbledore nods happily, like he's got it all figured out already. He scares me. No, really.

"Of course," he murmured. "Well, we shall have to find them rooms, yes? I'll send a student immediately. And then, Kayli, if I may speak to you?"

Dumbledore gestures a student forward, a girl with huge, buggy eyes, long, almost colorless hair, and a slightly mad expression. Elrohir looks nervous. "Elladan, Elrohir, this is Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw. Clever girl. She'll show you to your room. The third floor, my dear, the fifth room on the left."

Luna nods vaguely and peers at them intently. "Are you fairies?" she asks.

I have never seen an Elf look so offended.

I laugh as they walk away. "That was perfect," I say softly, listening to Luna chatter as she leads them away. I wish them much joy of her. I look at Dumbledore. "What'd you wanna talk to me about, Headmaster?"

He smiles again, beams, really, and gestures me forward with an arm. "I was wondering if you would be willing to take on some duties for the school." Why does that make me paranoid? "I'm aware that some students are interested in learning physical defense, the kind you have had to use in your world. It's not really necessary, here, as most of our battles are fought with wands. It would simply be an extracurricular activity for some."

"With parental permission only, right?" I ask. "I really don't want to hand kids a knife without their parents knowing about it." I shrug. "And if that doesn't work, at least have a teacher or someone there who has some medical knowledge. I can stop bleeding, but I'm not Healer."

He nods. "Agreed. To both. I was going to approach Master Legolas about perhaps teaching archery to those students interested. I don't know if he's going quite as mad as you are, but he seems to need something to do."

I nod. There's something else. There's ALWAYS something else. "And...?" I say after a minute. It's not that I don't trust people, it's just...well. OK. It IS that I don't trust people, although I try really hard.

"Ah, very observant," he says cheerfully. "I was also wondering if you woud perhaps be willing to help out the other Professors when they need it. Helping Madam Pomfrey after Quidditch games, Professor Snape with Potions, and such."

I'm a little doubtful about the last one. The first one I believe, any game played THAT far off the ground on an unstable cleaning object has to have SOME injuries. It would be much safer to ride a vacuum cleaner. More room to sit. But from what I've heard about Professor Snape -- mostly from Harry and Ron, who are biased, since he's the Head of their opposing House -- he probably wouldn't really welcome the help.

I just shrug. "OK. One of the twins would probably be better to help out Madam Pomfrey," I add. "They've been trained as Healers back in Middle-Earth."

Dumbledore looks intrigued. "Really? Who taught them?"

"Their father. Best Healer in Middle-Earth."

Dumbledore nods slowly, like this all makes so much sense. To him, maybe it does. Most of this shit usually doesn't make sense to me, let alone any one else I talk to about it. Harry only understood about half of what we said.

Dumbledore bows to me at the entrance of the Great Hall. I love the ceiling in this room. We should get one like it for the Great Hall in Minas Tirith. It would make the Elves feel more at home, and it would give me something to stare at when Elessar's being boring.

"Excellent," he says cheerfully. "I'll start posting notices and drawing up permission slips immediately. I would prefer it, however, if you would start out with something...less sharp in your defense lessons."

I nod. "I don't want to hand these kids knives until I'm sure they won't chop off their own hands," I tell him. "Wooden weapons would be better. All they do is bruise."

He beams at me again. Nobody should be this bloody happy all the time. Especially not when there's a war on and a bunch of evil Dark Lord-followers on the loose. "Of course," he says, still cheerful. "You can see Hagrid about that. And I will need to see a copy of your lesson plan before you begin."

He bows again and leaves.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

TBC...


	13. Honor And Encouragement

Legolas --

The Headmaster here makes me nervous. He is far too...cheerful. I'm used to wizards, but I have never met a wizard who was quite so cheerful.

"Ah, Legolas!" he says, the instant he sees me. Well, there goes any chance of getting away before he talks to me. Damn.

If my father even heard me THINKING like this, he would be so ashamed. And then I'd get a lecture on how he didn't raise his sons to be rude, and well, that certainly explained why Nana had wanted girls.

I've heard it before. Every one in the House of Oropher has heard it before, including those who married into it. Every one in the palace has heard it, if not all of Mirkwood.

Father's voice carries.

I manage a polite smile and turn to him. "Yes, Professor?"

He smiles at me. "I wanted to talk to you about giving lessons to some of the students."

I arch an eyebrow. "What kind of lessons?"

"Archery," he replies. I barely contain my noise of disbelief. He wants me to teach a bunch of children archery? I haven't the patience. Or the temperment. Or the inclination, really.

"Why?" I ask, tilting my head curiously.

He just shugs. "I believe that many of the students would be interested in learning. It's of no practical use here, of course, since we fight our battles with magic."

That just does not strike me as the right way to do battle. The Elves of Mirkwood have used magic in battle before, but that's the innate magic granted to us by the land and it is my father's power only. Well, the power of the House of Oropher, although I can't do half the things my father can do.

"I've already approached Kayli," he adds. "She's agreed to teach them the hand-to-hand. Although perhaps if you could assist with that as well?"

I sigh and nod. If I say no, Kayli will never let me hear the end of it. Besides, it'll give me something to do other than useless research.

The Professor beams at me. "Ah, yes." He pauses. "Also...well, I'm afraid more people from your world have landed here."

I freeze. Oh, Elbereth, who now? "Who?" I ask. Even I am surprised by the resignation in my voice. Now we have to worry about getting even more people home. It was bad enough when it was just us.

"A pair of twins," he says, serious now. "Elladan --"

"And Elrohir," I finish. I swear. Of all the people in Middle-Earth, it had to be them. "Of course."

He seems to be considering something for a moment. "I think perhaps it would be better if we kept the Weasley twins away from awhile," he says, like I'm supposed to know who they are. But if they're anything like the twins I know, he's probably right. "Your two friends struck me as...well, one of them seemed to be a bit of a prankster."

"Both of them are," I tell him. "Elrohir just hides it better." I sigh and try to work the tension out of my shoulders. I wish Kayli were here. She could take care of the tension.

No, not like that. Dirty minds.

"When do you want me to start teaching?" I ask.

"As soon as possible," he tells me. "Talk to Kayli about a lesson plan, she would be better help than any of the teachers here. Also, she said that one of the twins is a trained Healer?"

"They both are. Elrohir is better at it then Elladan, that's all." Elrond would not have let those two lose in the wilds without some kind of medical training. And he had to patch them up enough when they were young, he probably figured they should just have to do it themselves.

He smiles and wanders off. It's an aimless stride, and he's looking around at the pictures, stopping to converse with some of the inhabitants.

I somehow doubt that he is half as mad as he acts. Keep your enemies confused, and all that. Someone with that much power cannot be that mad and keep this place running so smoothly.

I shrug it off. It's none of my concern, after all. I wonder where Kayli is.

Harry --

I don't think I've ever seen anyone this confused by a quill. She keeps forgetting to refill it, then glares at the thing like it's all it's fault she doesn't know how to use it. If she was magical like the rest of us, it would have burst into flame about ten minutes ago.

It's very amusing.

Hermione is patiently trying to instruct her on how to use it. Once, Kayli snaps at her, then shrugs and apologizes. She seems to be even more on edge than usual. Her and Legolas have probably been fighting again, knowing our luck.

She finally finishes what she was doing, reads it over, then tosses the quill across the table.

"So what's all that for, anyway?" Ron asks, looking up from his Potions essay. I hate Snape.

"Lesson plans," she says, and yawns. "Dumbledore has me teaching a voluntary physical defense thing." She pauses. "Who's Hagrid?"

"Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor," Hermione responds absently, not looking up from her own textbook. "Why?"

She shrugs again. "I'm supposed to ask him about getting my hands on some training weapons."

"They're different from regular weapons?" Ron asks. "I just thought they used the same ones."

Kayli laughs. "Oh, hell no. I'm not giving you kids anything with an edge until you know how to use it."

"You gave me something with an edge," I say.

"I didn't have anything else," she replies. "I even made my Men train with wooden swords for a month or two. They didn't take that too well, let me tell you." She makes a face and shakes her head. "Men. You take away their sharp toys and they sulk like children."

Professor Snape chooses that moment to walk into the library, robes billowing out, looking evil, intimidating, and kind of greasy. Kayli looks a little revolted. "Potter," he snarls. "Causing trouble, as usual, I'm sure."

"Doing his homework, reading," Kayli says, and shakes her head. "Shame on you, Harry. No decency at all."

Snape glares. "And who, pray tell, are you?"

"Kayli of Gondor," she replies. "Who're you, Sarge?"

"I am Professor Severus Snape," he snaps back. "And I want to know what you think you're doing, interfering with the work of students?"

"I thought they were causing trouble," she replies easily, leaning back in her chair and looking relaxed. I have the sneaky suspicion that if Snape made a threatening move, she'd be on her feet with a blade in her hand before any of us could blink.

She's a lot scarier than Snape is.

His eyes narrow, and he straightens up to his full height. "Whatever they are doing, you have no right to be in here."

"On the contrary, I have every right to be in here. I'm a teacher now. Voluntary physical defense."

Snape laughs disbelievingly. "Are you trying to tell me that YOU know how to fight? Physically?" He shakes his head. "I've never understood the honor of trying to gut your opponent with something pointy."

"And what honor is there in hexing your opponenent to his back?" she asks in return. "The method of battle you people seem to have is even less honorable than ours. At least we have to see our opponents face to face, instead of waving a pointy stick at them and using magic."

"She has a point," Ron says after a moment.

"It's pointless," Snape snaps. "I want you out of here."

"Tough," she says.

"I can remove you."

"No, you really can't."

He pulls his wand. Kayli's entire body tenses. "What are you trying to prove?" she demands. "That you're big and bad? Please. I've got scarier people than you in my family."

"Yeah, you're married to one of 'em," Ron mutters.

Snape tucks his wand back up his sleeve. "Dumbledore said I was to approach you if I required any form of assistance. I believe I'll go to the Slytherins, instead. You haven't the brains."

Kayli shrugs. "Whatever you say, Casper."

He growls and storms out.

The three of us immediately start to laugh. Nobody but Dumbledore is willing to stand up to Snape like that. I have some pity for him, some understanding, since I saw what my father did to him when they were young. But that's no excuse for how he treats everybody else.

Ron claps her on the shoulder. "Thanks for that."

She grins. It makes her look a lot younger than she usually does. "I live to serve." She gathers the papers she's been working on. "I gotta go see Dumbledore. Will I see any of you in my class?"

"I'll be there," I say. "Remus'll give me permission."

"I'll tell Mum it's a dueling club," Ron says.

Hermione looks thoughtful. "It might be useful, but I don't know if I can do it."

Kayli smiles. "Neither did I."

She leaves. We all make an attempt to go back to our homework. After a few minutes, Ron slams his textbook shut. "I can't concentrate anymore," he mutters, and starts rolling up his essay. "I've got most of it done, the rest I can do tomorrow."

Hermione holds out one hand. Ron sighs and hands it over. She holds out her other hand to me. I hand mine over as well.

Without Hermione, Ron and I wouldn't have learned nearly as much here.

"So," Ron says after a moment. "Do you think they're here for a reason?"

I stare at my hands. Hermione's quill stops scratching. "I don't see what reason it would be," she says, like she's confessing something horrible.

"Maybe to help us fight Voldemort," I say. "And maybe if it's not him, it's his Death Eaters."

Ron looks doubtful. "No offense to Kayli or Legolas, but what good is a knife or a sword against magic? You have to get a lot closer with them than you do a wand."

"But not with a bow," I say after a second. "I think Legolas is a lot scarier than we're giving him credit for."

"I don't know," Ron says. "I'm giving him a lot of credit."

"And what about their friends?" Hermione asks. She's put down her quill, but she's still playing with it, like she knows she should be doing work. "They were...rather frightening, too."

"Yeah, they're just scary 'cause they reminded you of Fred and George," Ron says. "Only armed."

"Well, yes, there was that, of course," she says. "But it was...just...they seem so OLD!" she bursts out.

"Well, that's insulting," says a voice from behind us.

Hermione squeaks. Ron falls out of his chair. I pull out my wand.

One of the twins is leaning in the doorway. He's taller than I thought, and his hair isn't in the funky braids anymore. Do all Elves have such long bloody hair? It's past his waist! That would just be a pain to take care of.

He walks into the library, looking around curiously. "We're not all that old, actually," he tells us. "We're among the youngest left amongst the Elves."

"So you're still bloody old, by our standards," Ron responds.

He shrugs. "Humans are young," is all he says.

"Which one are you, anyway?" Hermione asks.

"Elrohir," he says, bows, and then smiles. Hermione blushes. Ron looks insanely jealous. It doesn't seem like Elrohir sees it, but I have a feeling he does, anyway. "According to my brother, I am the humorless, fun-stealing stick-in-the-mud."

"Are you?" Ron asks.

He laughs. "Probably," he admits. "But I am also the one who puts all the more subtle touches on our plans."

"So...uh...you're a bit of pranksters, then?" Ron asks, looking curious.

Elrohir's grin is huge, and makes him look like a kid. "Us? Absolutely not."

"Do people actually buy that?" I ask.

He laughs. "No," he admits. "But we're the sons of our father, so they pretend."

Hermione immediately starts asking questions, apparently interested in the fact that they seem to be the kids of an important man -- er, Elf. Half-Elf. Whatever. He answers her, and they fall deep into conversation again.

I lean back and listen in. You'd be amazed what you can learn if you pay attention.

Something else I learned from Hermione.

TBC...


	14. First Lessons Never Go Well

Kayli --

Oh, this is a nifty bunch. Valar, but I wish I was back in Gondor, training with my Men, most of whom at least know which end of the sword goes where. It's a good thing they don't have to use brute force. They'd be fucked.

Elrohir looked politely stunned. Elladan patted me on the back and told me not to hurt them. Legolas laughed himself out of breath.

My brothers -- Boromir, in particular --would be having a field day if they knew that I was training a bunch of kids.

I didn't know it was possible to want somebody around and be glad they weren't there at the same time. Emotions are odd things. They only things I know on the human, Elf, Hobbit, or Dwarf structure that can be completely bloody contrary.

Elbereth, they're pathetic.

Harry's there, along with Hermione, Ron, and his sister Ginny. Charlie's standing back by the lake, with the nurse. Pomfrey, or something like that. I recognize the pale kid with the pointy face from my first day concious. The girl from the Transfiguration class, the one with the flower name. The kid with the star charts, Neville, is standing back by Charlie and Pomfrey, looking nervous.

Of course, they all look nervous. It might have something to do with the fact that there are Elves in the trees.

I roll my neck, trying to work out some of the tension. Yes, I am tense. I really, really don't want to do this. But if I don't fucking do something, I'm going to go nuts. Nuttier, even. Harry gives me an encouraging smile. That's really not comforting, however. I can still hear Legolas chuckling quietly behind me.

"All right," I say after a long second. My Men would be threatened by my tone of voice alone. Of course, at the moment, I don't really look all that threatening. A tank top and jeans are not threatening apparel. Now if I wore a long black robe, that would probably be threatening. But I'd feel like I was in a casting call for the Exorcist, so no dice.

"Have any of you ever used a sword? A knife? A sharp stick? A blunt object? Anything? I'd settle for a kitchen knife," I say.

'Dan snickers.

"Uh...I've helped my mum bake," Ron says.

"I fought a basilisk with a sword," Harry volunteers.

"I've had a few fencing lessons," says the blond kid with the pointy face.

Well, at least they're not completely clueless.

"Fencing lessons?" Ron says suddenly, looking intently at the blond kid. "Isn't fencing a Muggle thing?"

The other kid shrugs. "Father wanted us to have lessons." He sneers at Ron. "Of course, someone like you wouldn't understand the finer points of physical battle."

"And that comment proves that you don't either," I say, as sharply as I can manage.

He glares at me, and opens his mouth to retaliate. "You got a name, kid?" I interrupt.

"Draco Malfoy," he snaps back.

Jesus, poor kid. I bet he was teased in school. Actually, I bet he still is. Isn't that child cruelty?

I twirl my knives through my fingers. "All right," I say again. "I'm not here to teach you how to be the world's greatest warriors. Somebody else can do that. I'm here to teach you how not to die if you're in a physical battle. I doubt it'll come up, since magic is your big thing. But by the time we're done, you'll be able to defend yourselves if the opportunity presents itself."

I crouch down, blades still in my hands. "You do not turn on your classmates, ladies and gentlemen. I realize I can't keep my eye on everybody." I use one of the blades to point over my shoulder. "That's why they're here."

"They're not scary," one kid ventures.

Ron snorts. "Oh, yes, they are," he mutters. Harry and Hermione nod furiously in agreement.

I stand back up, slowly. Not to be threatening, just to stretch my legs. Looking threatening is just a spiffy side-effect. "They're actually very scary," I tell him. "Trust me. I've SEEN them fight."

"Against you?" another kid asks. He's a darker skinned kid, standing next to Ginny in a slightly protective way. Must be Dean Thomas. Ron's mentioned him.

I point at Elladan and Elrohir. "They taught me how to fight," I tell them. "I had to learn from somebody, too."

"Figures," the blond kid sneers. "What can a girl teach us?"

I smile. I don't have to look in a mirror to know it's not a pleasant smile. "Before I landed in this Valar-forsaken backwater, I spent a year training the warriors of Gondor. You ain't seen nothing yet. When you can take me down, you're good enough to say that you don't have to listen to me. If you think you can do it now, let's go. If not, sit down, shut up, and fucking listen."

I can hear Legolas sigh. I think he's sort of given up on me ever learning patience. I know I have.

"I think I can take you," says the blond kid.

I just stare at him. Behind me, the twins burst out laughing. Malfoy sets down the bundle he was carrying. He carefully unwraps it and pulls out a beautiful sword. And I mean BEAUTIFUL. The scabbard is hand-tooled, intricate, covered in a pattern of snakes. The hilt is crafted into a snake that seems to be devouring it's own tail. The snake's eyes are dark green emeralds. It's gorgeous, if a little morbid.

He pulls it out, and the blade gleams. Behind me, Legolas swears.

Well, that gives it away. It's definitely magical.

I shrug and draw my own blades.

He looks at me, rather intently. "It's enchanted," he says shortly. "But just to be indestructable."

"He's probably lying," Ron says suddenly.

"Why?" I ask. It's a legitimate question. I have met very few people as arrogant as this kid, but when you do find them, they are always convinced that they can beat you, so they don't need to cheat.

It's only after they get a lesson in reality that they try to cheat.

He picks up the sword and holds it like he knows where the pointy end goes. I give my blades a little twirl. He bows, keeping his eyes on me. I incline my head. At least the little punk has some manners. Of course, you don't bow to your enemies in an actual battle. It's too messy to keep up with all the little niceties.

We pace around each other for a few moments, trading test-blows. It's really the only way to be sure of your enemies strengths and weaknesses. In a tournament or in training, you always trade these kinds of blows. Swing, parry, testing, testing, one, two, three.

Again, this doesn't apply to actual battle. Then you just hack and chop and pray you don't end up fighting somebody stronger than you. It happens, however. Which is why battles have things the bards don't like to contemplate. The blood and the death and the screaming of the wounded. Battle is never, ever pretty. And kids like these have concepts of great and glorious battle, heard in stories where the good guys always win and the darker aspects are never mentioned.

What they don't realize is even the good guys do some pretty horrible things in the name of their cause. Even heroes can be bastards.

Don't ask me how I know that. You really, really don't want to know. It's nothing I've participated in, or even seen, but I've heard stories that would curl you eyebrows.

Malfoy nods a little, to himself, as if he thinks he's tested out my weaknesses. Maybe he thinks he has.

He holds his sword across his body, which is a pretty good defense/attack move. He steps carefully, and I mirror him. He's starting to get irrittated. I'm staying too close for him to get in a good strike, and he knows it. He makes a quick, short thrust at my abdomen, and I sidestep easily.

Lesson number one: Patience. Your enemy usually doesn't have any, and you can use that to your advantage. Eventually, they'll get frustrated with minor thrusts and parries, and the fact that they're not doing any damage, and nine times out of ten will make a stupid mistake. Again, doesn't apply in large-scale battle most of the time.

We trade blows again, and I back off when he does, even though he has a giant, gaping hole in his defenses. He looks annoyed.

Lesson number two: Again with the patience. Let your enemy tire himself out. Usually, they will.

Two more of our little dances, and he lets out an irritated noise and charges, a bit recklessly.

Remind me to really harp on the patience.

Lesson number three: Guard all sides. If you're not watching your back, your enemy will not hesitate to put a blade in it.

But I won't do that. The pain probably wouldn't teach him anything, so I just trap his blade between mine, twist, and jerk my knee up. The blade flies out of his hands and sticks in the ground about ten feet away.

And now his hands are free to punch, claw, whatever, so I kick his feet out from underneath him, take a few steps back, and crouch down easily. I'm not worried, even if the kid pulls a wand. I have three Elves behind me who could easily take him out.

Lesson number four: Always, ALWAYS, have someone you trust behind you to guard your back. If you don't trust them, you might as well stab yourself in the back.

Why do you think I always have Legolas, Boromir, or one of the twins at my back?

"Anybody think they can tell me what he did wrong?"

The students shift around and fidget for a second. That's ok, I can wait.

Legolas --

I have never actually witnessed Kayli in the beginning stages of such training. She has wells of patience I never would have guessed at, had I not seen her here, like this. Even the twins look impressed. And a little proud, which is logical, since they trained her. Of course, I'm so proud I'm ready to explode. Now I know why my father was always boasting about my mother.

Kayli is crouched on the ground, regarding her students with the calmest eyes I've ever seen her use.

One of the students, a rather short, round child back by the nurse and Ron's brother, clears his throat nervously. "He came in too fast," he says, voice quiet and nervous.

Kayli nods and smiles. "Good, Neville. Five points."

She stands easily, and I can hear Elladan and Elrohir start whispering back and forth. She walks forward and extends her hand to the child on the ground. "You all right, Draco?"

He nods, looking sullen. He reluctantly accepts her hand and scrambles to his feet. Elladan hands him his sword, and he snatches it away without a thanks before stalking back to the class. Elladan looks back at the two of us who have remained back and grins. He crouches down not far from Kayli.

She paces back and forth, looking over the assembled students with a thoughtful look on her face. Elbereth, but she is beautiful like this.

"The first thing you have to learn is patience. Without any patience, you're dead. If you have patience, your enemy will get frustrated, and most likely do something stupid. Make a mistake. Most of the time, you can use their mistakes to your own advantage. If they don't make a mistake, they'll eventually tire themselves out, and THEN they will make mistakes, and those you can definitely use. But THAT means you have to have PATIENCE. You have to learn to wait, and pace yourselves, and not use all your strength at once."

She pauses, hands on her hips, looking back out at the rest of them. Her eyes land on the blond kid, who has his arms folded over his chest and is sulking. He reminds me a bit of me when I was very young. Impatient, arrogant, and so sure that I was superior to everyone else. My father did not put up with that for long.

Nor will Kayli put up with such arrogance for long. Especially if it gets in the way of her teaching. My beloved is NOT a patient woman.

"Anybody else wanna try?" she asks, spinning one of her daggers in her hands.

Dead silence.

She tilts her head to the side. "All right, then I guess we'll go straight to defense."

She glances back over at me. I smile at her, and she grins back.

"Disgusting," mutters the blond kid.

Kayli ignores him. "One thing I have to make absolutely clear. The blades are wooden. They will remain that way until I say that you're ready to use something with an edge. After this, Mr. Malfoy, that blade stays put away. If I bust any of you using any of these weapons, edged or otherwise, against your classmates in anything other than a training capacity, you will no longer be in this class and I will make every single one of your previous detentions look like a fucking cakewalk. Got it?"

"You can't do that," snaps a scrawny boy standing next to Malfoy.

I can't see Kayli's smile, but I bet it's unpleasant. "Wanna bet? Dumbledore gave me permission to punish my students however I see fit. This doesn't mean I'm going to break out the thumbscrews and the rack. This means work. Hard work. And a lot of it. If I thought I could get you expelled for attacking a fellow student, I'd do it."

"You wouldn't," gasps a girl.

"Yes, she would," Harry says.

"Uh-huh," says Ron.

"Definitely," says Neville.

"And she'd be right to," adds Hermione, in that irritating, all-knowing way she has.

There's another long moment of silence, Kayli perfectly willing to let them stew over this for a while.

"So the beginning of this class will be demonstrations, right?" one asks.

She nods. "What's your name?"

"Uh...Ernie Macmillian. Hufflepuff."

THAT is a ridiculous name.

"Yeah, the first part will be demonstrations. Then you'll move out into your own pairs. And no mixed Houses."

With that, she turns to Elladan and gestures him forward.

That went relatively well, I think. My classes start tomorrow. Here's hoping they go as smoothly.

TBC...


	15. Oh, Please, Not More Twins!

-- Harry --

Oh, ow.

That really fucking hurts.

Kayli sighs, spins out her blades, and crouches down next to me. How she moves so fast, I will never know. I'm a Seeker. The youngest Seeker in over a hundred years. I'm supposed to have such great bloody reflexes and speed, but she makes me look like a really old geriatric. Older than Dumbledore even.

On the sidelines, I hear Remus mutter something that sounds a lot like 'that had to hurt.'

It's our third day of training. We only get it every third day, for a double class. Just so it doesn't interfere with our other lessons, Quidditch, DA, or study time.

Not that I HAVE any study time.

"You alive?" Kayli asks, almost casually. Her eyes are strangely distant.

Without thinking, I shoot a quick glance at Legolas. He looks distant and almost like he's in pain, and suddenly I recognize the look in Kayli's eyes. Worry. She is very much on the edge of freaking out. She seems to shake herself out of it and grins at me. She pushes back to her feet and extends a hand. "Pair off!" she hollers. "And no mixed houses!"

Not far away, Malfoy sighs. "Great," he mutters. "Another day stuck with Goyle."

I have to admit...I sympathize with him. If I had to deal wtih Goyle every day, especially to train with, I would have freaked out long before now. And probably beaten them to death. Most people have been learning, usually at a pretty ferocious rate. Not Crabbe and Goyle, uh-uh. Not in the slightest. They still flail and whack at people like they still don't know where the pointy end goes.

It's so sad.

Kayli winces as Crabbe nearly decapitates Nott. Ron and I look at each other and wince, then assume the fighting stance Kayli has busted her ass to drill into us.

Even as she's moving forward to seperate them -- because Crabbe hasn't gotten the clue that Nott's down for the count, and is still swinging at him -- Legolas intervenes and grabs the sword out of Crabbe's hand. "Usually when they fall down, you've defeated your opponent. Even if you are a jackass."

Kayli rakes both hands through her hair. Everyone's been going a little stir-crazy too. It's hotter than hell out here. The humidity's at about a hundred percent. Everyone is hot, sticky, and irritable. Hermione almost bit my head off this morning. Lavender and Parvati have been moving as little as possible, and even Ginny's about ready to leap up and attack.

It's starting to get scary.

"Crabbe," Kayli says sharply, "you are out of this class. That is the third time you have knocked an opponent unconcious through sheer stupidity, and I'm getting really bloody tired of it. I have put up with appeals from you Head of House the last two times, and you can just go ahead and tell Professor Death it's not workin' out. Charlie, Neville, get Nott to Pomfrey, please."

Neville and Charlie both nod, and hurry forward. Kayli shakes her head and points sharply at Crabbe. "Go," she snaps, "report to Snape. Go on, get lost. Everybody else, back to work!"

We all start working, seriously trying to bust our asses and impress her. If she's impressed, she won't take that truly impressive temper out on us, like she did with me earlier. I can keep up better with her than most of the other students can. Of course, she can still kick my ass.

And if Legolas interjects, we can just forget about it entirely.

The lessons are good, though. They're good teachers. Archery's really cool, too. Legolas has more patience than Kayli does, and he doesn't tend to flip out. But even if they do spaz, Elladan and Elrohir are never very far off.

"'Ey! 'EY!" a voice suddenly hollers out of nowhere. "I don't know what you bleeding dress-wearing freaks think you're doing, but ye can just stop it right now. And if ye think ye're getting me axe, ye can take a flyin' leap, pansy! Look at you! Ye're practically a damned ELF!"

Legolas's jaw drops, followed closely by his bow. Kayli actually fumbles the knife she's using to walk Colin through some motions. Elladan and Elrohir exchange shocked, wide-eyed glances.

And then Kayli's off, in motion, through the trees like she knows exactly were every single root and fallen branch are. Legolas swears and takes off after her.

There's a moment of silence.

"Well, children, I think that's the end of today's lesson," Elladan, -- at least I think it's Elladan -- says drily.

Then he and his brother leap down from the branches they're on and start shooing us back towards the castle.

Ron, Hermione and I deliberately hang back until we're walking next to the twins. Just as we get to the open castle doors, and a chance to talk to Elladan and Elrohir, when a familiar voice -- well, one of two, and that would explain the sinking sensation in my stomach -- says, quite cheerfully, "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Suddenly, Ron and I are both grabbed by an arm around the throat and yanked off to one side. Immediately, Elladan and Elrohir's hands drop to their weapons, and their feet shift enough so that I know they're about two seoconds away from droppping into a fighting crouch, and from havng their weapons in their hands. And from there on out it'll be about ten seconds until all of us can be dead.

Hermione leaps in between them, and it's nice to know she's willing to sacrifice life and limb for us. Kinda creepy, but kind of sweet all the same. "It's all right! It's Gred and Forge! I mean, it's Fred and George! They're Ron's brothers! They're friends!"

Fred and George blink at her. "Um, yes. Did you hear that, Gred?"

"I did indeed, Forge."

The two of them look at each other and grin. "We're FRIENDS!"

Elladan looks in horror at his brother. "Tell me WE'RE not like that."

Elrohir winces. "I am not like that. YOU are much worse."

Ron and I exchange horrified glances.

Oh, NO. We'd hoped this wouldn't happen. Either they'll get along smashingly and start pranking the whole castle, or they'll not get along at all, and start a prank war on each other.

Either way, nobody wins.

-- Kayli --

Well, here's a sight I never expected to see.

Wait, make that HOPED I'd never see.

Gimli is currently engaged in a wrestling match for his axe with Hagrid. You would think, by sheer size alone, that Hagrid would be winning, but Gimli's got sheer determination on his side. He does not willingly part with his axe.

"Gimli!" I yell, then run up to him and throw my arms around him. He immediately lets go of the axe handle to give me a tight hug, and Hagrid staggers back at the sudden loss of pressure and nearly falls on his ass.

"There ye are, lass! Can ye give us some warnin', next time ye plan on takin' off like that? Ye had us worried! Where's the Elf? I'm gonna kill him!" He pushes me back on my ass and storms toward Legolas. "Ye had yer poor old father worried sick, ye bloody, pig-headed, inconsiderate son of an orc!" He gives Legolas a tight hug around the chest. "Bless ye, laddie, yer alive!"

Legolas grins and hugs Gimli in return. "I'm sorry. We would have sent word had we the faintest idea how to do so."

"Sorry, Gimli," I put in.

Professor Flitwick hurries forward and starts to help me to my feet. He doesn't offer me a hand, of course, more of a shoulder. He's really runty, but he's very sweet. I smile at him. "Thanks, Professor. Hey, not to interrupt the touching moment, but we should get up to the castle and tell Dumbledore what's going on."

"Professor Dumbleodre has been called out of the castle," Professor Slimy says, stepping out of the shadows. "Perhaps one of the teachers should escort your new ... friend up to the castle."

OK, there is no way I would let Professor Slimeball walk my worst ENEMY up to the castle. I grin at him, more baring my teeth than expressing any pleasure. "Good thing we're teachers then."

He sneers at me. "I meant a REAL teacher. Someone who teaches the students something useful."

"This from the guy who teaches the wizarding world's version of home economics," I snap back. "You throw stuff in a pot and boil it."

Snape looks like he's about to snarl. "You could never understand the delicacy of Potions."

I stop and think about it. "You're right," I concede. "I probably haven't given you enough credit. I'm sure making sure it does't blow up in your face is harder than it seems. And I'm sure some of your Potions are difficult and complicated. But what I do ain't a cakewalk either, Casper. I don't care how traumatized you were as a child or what the rest of your excuses for joining the Dark Side of the Force are. You're a scumbucket with severe inadequacy issues, and I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

He sneers at me, which seems to be his usual expression. "I don't know where you get your information, girl, but I do NOT follow the Dark Lord."

I think back to the conversations I've been having with Harry. Ron doesn't trust Snape at all, and neither does Harry. Hermione's the only one who does, and she only really trusts him because Dumbledore does. I smirk. "Yeah? Roll up your sleeve. Left arm."

Legolas's eyes go wide, and he reaches for his knives. Hagrid freezes, still stooped over to pick up Gimli's axe. Gimli's looking back and forth between me and Snape, like a spectator at a tennis match.

Snape snarls, grabs my arm, and pulls me forward. "Listen here, you ignorant Muggle girl --"

"It would be wise," a deep, musical voice says mildly from off to our left, "to take your hands off my daughter."

Daughter?

Snape and I turn at the same moment. I see Snape's eyes go wide. Admittedly, mine are probably pretty large, too. King Thranduil is standing nearby, wearing a deep green cloak and holding his bow almost casually. But don't let THAT fool.you. I've seen Legolas hold it the same way and then have something dead about half a second later. And King Thranduil's scarier than Legolas is. Of course, he's had a lot more practice.

"Adar!" Legolas says, sounding startled.

"There you are!" Gimli huffs. "Thought maybe ye'd been lucky enough to stay home. Wandered off into the forest. Bloody tree-hugger."

Hagrid straightens up slowly. "Who's 'e?" he asks, sounding so confused I feel sorry for him.

"That, Hagrid, is King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen. He is a seriously kickass Elf. Which means, Professor Slimeball, that you should remove your hands."

"That would be wise," his Majesty says, still mild as can be.

Legolas, however, has a knife in his hands and is glaring at Snape. If looks could kill...

At the moment, I kind of wish they could. I never wanted to see his hair this close. Ick.

Snape sneers at Thranduil. "What will you do if I do not?"

"Kill you," Thranduil says conversationally. "If you raise so much as a threatening finger against her, you'll wish you hadn't."

He releases my arms and steps back with a sneer. I rake my hair out of my eyes. I hate it when I do shit like that. "Look, I'm sorry for pushing you. But you haven't made my life here a cakewalk, Professor. Maybe you should try charm school." I turn to Hagrid. "Who's in charge if Dumbledore isn't here?"

Hagrid scratches at his massive amount of beard. "That'd be Professor MacGonagall."

I nod and grin at him. "Thanks Hagrid." I give his arm a half-assed squeeze, since it's the highest point on his body I can reach. "Don't worry about them. They're the good guys."

He gives me a nervous smile. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth and disappears into his beard. "All righ', Kayli. Just be careful."

"Hagrid, what happened to your face?" Legolas asks suddenly. "You...do not look well."

King Thranduil's eyebrows nearly leave his forehead. I take a closer look at Hagrid's face. He doesn't look well, that's for sure. He looks rather beat up.

"Oh, it's nuthin'," Hagrid says cheerfully. "Grawp was just feelin' a friendly, so he gave me a pat on the back a little to hard. Right into a tree."

Behind him, Thranduil mouths 'Grawp,' looking at Legolas with raised eyebrows. Legolas shakes his head, with a little smile and a 'we'll-explain-later' expression.

It's sad when you know someone so well that you can read their every expression.

It's so MARRIED it makes me sick.

I rake a hand back through my hair and lead the way back to the castle. Behind me, Legolas and Thranduil are talking in Elvish, rapid-fire enough that I can't even begin to follow it, but then my Sindarin is rudimentary at best.

Professor MacGonagall is not going to be happy to see us. She likes me well enough, but she can't stand Legolas and she hates to see us together. I think she's worried we're corrupting the innocent students with all of our public displays of affection. And for some reason, Legolas delights in irritating her, which is why we're so affectionate in public. When she's around at least.

Not that I need an excuse to cuddle with him, but he sort of needs one to be so affectionate in public. Elves are usually fairly reserved people.

Um. Anyways.

Professor MacGonagall is hunched over her desk, correcting Transfiguation homework. She glances up when we knock on her door, and, while she may be getting up there in years, she sure as hell ain't dead, her jaw drops and she blushes slightly when her eyes land on Thranduil.

Legolas looks amused.

"Oh. Um. Hello. Kayli. New guests? Again?" She recovers quickly, straightens her glasses, and stands up, smoothing her robes into place.

"Yeah, 'fraid so," I reply, and gesture behind me. "This is Thranduil, King of Eryn Lasgalen, and Legolas's father. And this is one of our fellow Questers, Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Lonely Mountain."

Gimli bobs his head in acknowledgement, slightly awkward. Magic makes Dwarves kind of nervous, and this place is absolutely crawling with the stuff. King Thranduil, on the other hand, presses his hand over his heart and bows gracefully, the soul of respect and courtly manners.

He's an Elf. They have lots of practice at stuff like this.

"My Lady," he says politely.

Professor MacGonagall blushes again. "It's just Professor, I'm afraid, Your Majesty. I'm afraid we don't have any rooms available for visiting royalty, but we can make you comfortable enough, I suppose."

Thranduil looks confused a moment, then amused. I don't really think he was worried about his rooms. After all, he spends as much time out of his palace as in it. Elves aren't bit on being caged in, no matter how pretty the cage.

I hope nobody else shows up. I hope we can find our way home BEFORE someone else comes looking for us and encounters whatever sent us here.

The last thing I need is my brothers, the sons of Elrond, and the Weasleys all in the same place. I might as well just kill myself if that happens. If MacGonagall doesn't get to me first.

I guess that just leaves prayer, huh?

-- Neville --

Ron looks kinda paranoid. He keeps looking back and forth between his brothers and Kayli's friends like he expects them to start hexing each other.

I wouldn't put it past Fred and George, but the other two are Elves. I mean, they're old -- not that they look it -- and wise. They should be above such things.

Right?

Harry and Hermione look uncomfortable. Hermione looks almost as panicked as Ron, and Harry looks like he's already decided to put Locking and Alarm Charms on everything he owns. Remind me to do that when I get back up to the dormitory.

It's not that I don't trust them, it's just...Well, actually, it is that I don't trust them. Gran's always accused me of being too trusting. She's obviously never went to school with the Weasley Twins.

Kayli and Legolas come out of the doors, trailed by a short, very confused looking man with a huge beard, and a tall man with long blonde hair. He actually looks quite a bit like Legolas, except with green eyes. And he's a bit taller. And scarier, which is probably very, very bad.

Kayli suddenly stops, causing the short one to bump into her. She looks at the Elf twins, then at Fred and George, and then says something in a language I don't understand. Legolas looks shocked, and the tall one looks amused.

"Did you teach her anything but the curses?" he asks, sounding like the whole situation is funny.

Legolas sends his companion an annoyed look. "I DIDN'T teach her the curses, Adar," he says, then looks at the Elf twins. "She learned it from them."

"Ah. Not surprising, really."

Both Elf twins turn and bow, very low.

"Welcome, your Majesty," says the serious one -- Elrohir, I think.

"We're overjoyed at your presence," says the other one -- I think his name is Elladan.

I could have them backwards. Kayli says they're interchangeable.

"Right," the Elf says drily.

Kayli sighs. "Your Majesty, may I introduce you to Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. The other two redheads are Fred and George Weasley, no idea which is which, and the silent one over there is Neville Longbottom. He's a nice kid. Those two are troublemakers, Harry's this world's version of Frodo, and Ron and Hermione are his best friends. Kids, this is Thranduil --"

Hermione gasps. Then Ron steps hard on her foot. Kayli sends her a look that says 'Silence or death.' "He's the King of Eryn Lasgalen and Legolas's father."

"A King?" Fred says.

"Really?" George says. "I mean, like, a really honest-to-goodness King?"

Thranduil looks at Kayli, eyebrows raised.

"Not a lot of real monarchy's over here," she says. "And I think they have a Queen."

"Uh, we have a Minister," Ron mumbles, looking at the King with wide eyes.

Harry has the strangest people show up. I mean, seriously. First it was Professor Quirrel, who had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the back of his head, then it was Professor Lupin, who turned out to be a werewolf. Then it was Sirius Black, who we all thought wanted to kill him, then it was the guy who wasn't really Mad-Eye Moody. The only problem with all the interesting blokes in Harry's life is that most of them want to kill him.

"But yes, he is a real honest-to-goodness King, and Legolas is a real, honest-to-goodness Prince."

"So you're a real, honest-to-goodness PRINCESS?" Ron blurts.

I can't really blame him. Kayli doesn't come across as a Princess. She comes across more as a badass. As somenoe who could put you in the ground without a second thought. That's all right. Better the ground than St. Mungo's.

Kayli winces. "No. I am NOT a princess."

"Yes," Thranduil says calmly. "She is a real, honest-to-goodness Princess. She doesn't like it very much, but I doubt she'll ever have to worry about being Queen."

Kayli actually pales at that, and I can't help but smile.

"Thank the VALAR," she says. "I can barely get a garrison to listen to me, let alone a whole damn kingdom."

"The thought of being a Queen is off-putting to you, then?" George says, sounding like he doesn't believe her.

"YES," she says. "Being a Lady of Gondor is bad enough. When you're a Queen you have to act like a girl all the time. I'll leave that to ladies who are more prepared for it. Like Arwen. And Lothiriel."

"Wait -- you knwo QUEENS?" Fred says.

It's not often you see the twins actually shocked, but I think she managed.

"Yeah. A couple," she says casually, like being on a first name basis with royalty is no big deal. "Also Princes, Princesses, Kings, Lords, Ladies and Stewards. I can stand most of them. But mostly I just know soldiers. Makes sense, since I AM a soldier."

"You're...like, a commander or something? Back of the line?" George asks, looking really curious.

Elladan and Elrohir look at each other and laugh.

"A commander she is, and woe to any who cross her or harm her Men," one of them says, "but back of the line she is NOT."

"She couldn't bear it," says the other. "She's a fighter, is our Kayli."

"And you fight WITHOUT magic?" Fred says. "HOW?"

Kayli draws one of her knives from her boot. "With these," she says drily. "We don't have wands, we have blades and bows. Just as effective, but messier." She nods at Ron and Harry. "You want a demonstration, ask them. They've been learning."

Just like that, Fred and George turn on Ron. "You've been fighting? With KNIVES?"

"Mum's gonna have kittens!"

"Big, carnivorous kittens," Hermione adds. "Ron told her it was a dueling club."

"That's not a lie!" Ron says hotly. "Just...a little fib."

"You're meat," George says.

"We'll give you a splendid funeral, though."

"If there's enough left to bury."

"You've been teaching them?" Thranduil asks, turning to Kayli. "How have you managed to keep your sanity?"

"Very carefully," she replies. "And I haven't been teaching all of them. Hermione and Neville work with the injured. It's all bruises and broken bones." She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "Neville's getting pretty good with his bone-setting charms."

I blush and duck my head, instantly cursing my fair complexion. "I'm not really learning anything useful for a battle, though," I mutter.

"You're wrong," Thranduil says suddenly. "I've always thought the job of the Healers is as great as that of the warriors. If not greater."

"Why don't you tell Elrond that, instead of fighting with him?" Legolas asks.

"I'd sooner cut out my tongue."

Kayli ruffles my hair. "He's right," she says. "I've always thought the Healers had a pretty important job, and a tough one. And if they weren't good at it, I'd've lost some friends along the way. And I'd probably be dead, too. Never underestimate what you do, Neville. And if you're a Healer on the battlefield, you're risking your ass as much as any soldier."

"More," Thranduil says. "Most armies tend to aim for the Healers."

"Does yours?" I blurt out, before I think. Oh, hell, that's probably rude. I just questioned royalty. If the ground opened up and swallowed me, I don't think I'd complain.

Thranduil smiles grimly, and he thankfully doesn't seem offended. "No. I spent most of my life fighting Orcs, and they care little for the deaths or wounds of the comrades."

I wonder what it would be like to spend your whole life at war.

It must really suck.

But that's what makes Harry so important. He can defeat Voldemort, so if any of us happen to have kids, like Ron and Hermione's fleet of red-haired, buck-toothed offspring, the ones I can see happening, don't have to grow up and have the first spells they learn be hexes and jinxes and curses to defend themselves.

But being a Healer will always be necessary. And I'm GOOD at stuff like that. Kayli's right. They always needs Healers, and not just for war. For accidents and duels and other stuff.

I smile. Gran won't like the fact that I want to be a Healer, but it's something I'm good at, and I can work with plants. Herbology's my best subject, you know. And plants play a big part in magical medicine.

Finally, I have something I CAN do.

TBC...


	16. More Good News

-- Kayli --

"You want us to go WHERE?" Harry's voice almost cracks on the last word. Ron and Hermione are both gaping at Dumbledore with their jaws hanging open, like he asked them to go skinny-dipping in an Amish farmer's pond, instead of hopping over to the States over their holidays.

"It's just America, you guys," I say, "not fucking Antarctica."

Dumbledore beams at me. "Ah, I knew she would not object," he says cheerfully. "Kayli will be your guide, of course."

I start to object, then just sigh and roll my eyes. What's the point? Besides, I'm probably the only person who can go to the States without sticking out like a sore thumb. Harry and Hermione could probably pass as tourists. But Ron? Not a chance in hell, baby. He'd be so busy goggling at the first Goth he saw that he wouldn't be able to watch where he was going.

And I'm going to have to take Legolas. And if I take Legolas, that means I'm going to have to take Gimli. And Thranduil. Which means I might as well pack the twins in a suitcase.

So all I have to do is try and pass off four Elves as tourists.

This is going to suck.

"Thanks, Dumbledore," I say sarcastically. "I appreciate it."

"You don't HAVE to take Legolas with us, do you?" Harry asks nervously.

See? I'm not the only person it's occured to.

I just give him a look. "What do you think, kiddo?"

Harry sighs. "Figures."

"How are we going to explain an Elf?"

"Elves," Ron says. 'If we take Legolas, we're probably gonna have to take his father, too. And it seems like we'd have to take the short guy, too."

"Dwarf," I tell him. "Gimli's a Dwarf. He's SUPPOSED to be short. And yeah, we're gonna have to take him, too. He's Legolas's best friend."

"But the twins can remain, of course," Dumbledore says.

Harry and Ron exchange horrified glances.

"Uh, Professor," I say slowly, "do you really wanna have the Weasley twins AND the sons of Elrond in the same place without a great deal of supervision? Preferably the kind that's armed?"

"Oh, dear," he says, "I hadn't thought about that."

"We'll take the jackasses with us."

"Which set?" Ron asks morosely.

"Elladan and Elrohir," I reply. "You can keep your brothers here. Or London. Or Hogsmeade. Or the moon, for all I care, but they're not coming with us."

Harry grinned. "Nervous at having both sets of twins, eh?"

"Nervous ain't the word for it." I rake a hand back through my hair. "I don't suppose anyone knows where my wayward husband and his Kingly father got to, huh?"

Dumbledore points out his office window. "I believe they're down by the lake, entertaining a group of female students with their archery."

"And a few female teachers," Hermione adds. But she's grinning. I think the effect that Thranduil had on MacGonagall amused her. Valar know it amused me.

"One more thing before you inform your companions of your newest quest," he says. "You are going to have to use Muggle transoportation. The magical culture in America is a great deal closer to the Muggle one. They live side by side, but they're still quite discreet."

"Hiding in broad daylight," I say. "Nifty."

"And I'm afraid you're going to have to fly," he finishes.

I knew there was a catch. There's ALWAYS a catch.

"This is gonna suck," I mutter, and go to find my husband.

-- Gimli --

Elves. They have the oddest attachment to their bows. Ain't healthy, ye ask me.

'Course, I've heard the Elf comment on Dwarven attachment to our axes. And that's totally different.

And I can't say I appreciate this crowd. The Elf and I have some catching up to do, and damned if I'll do it with an audience. Bad enough I have to tell him I missed his poncy Elvish ass, I'm not humiliating myself in front of a bunch of little girls.

Kayli wanders up and plops down next to me, sending the group of girls ogling her Elf a look of death. "If he were any prettier, I'd have to start killing people," she mutters.

I hold out my axe. She looks at me and laughs. "Thanks, Gimli," she says. "I needed that."

I pull out my pipe. The smell alone will drive his Majesty batty, even out here. So I've been smoking steady since we set out from Minas Tirith. Packed extra pipeweed, in fact, on special loan from the Hobbits. "Somethin' troublin' ye, lass?"

She makes a face. "We have to take a little trip," she says. "Like a...little mini-Quest, or something. Dumbledore wants me to take Harry, Hermione and Ron over to the States. It's another country," she explains, before I can ask. "And they're gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I can blend in, I'm originally from there, but..." She sighs and shrugs. "Actually, I don't know if I can blend in or not. I'm not from there anymore. I'm so Gondorrian it's kinda scary."

I pat her arm. "And o' course, if ye're goin', the Elf needs to be goin'."

She manages a smile, even though it looks more like a grimace. "Yeah. If I go, Legolas goes. If Legolas goes, you go. If Legolas goes, Thranduil goes. And there's no way in hell I'm leaving Elladan and Elrohir here without some kind of supervision. If I could leave Thranduil, he could probably keep them out of serious trouble. He doesn't scare them -- I don't think anything scrares them anymore -- but they do respect him. But Thranduil isn't going to let Legolas out of his sight too soon. And the Valar only know what kind of damage those to could do with Ron's brothers here to compete with."

I try to remember who she's talkin' about. We've met a lot of folks since we landed here, and it's too many names for me to remember. Ah, Ron, he's the speckled redheaded one. And then there's his two brothers, the twins. I think of the twins that came from our world, and make a face. Oh, aye, leavin' those two here would be a bad mistake.

We'd get back and the whole bloody castle would be purple. Mark my words.

"And that's not even the clincher," she says, sounding a bit morbid. "We have to FLY."

I can almost feel my face pale. I'm a Dwarf, a creature of the stones, not a bloody bird. "The Elf's not worth THAT much trouble," I mutter.

Kayli nods. She feels the same way about heights as I do. Actually, she's even more afraid of them. She can barely stands those bloody treestands the Elves in Lorien live in. And this time, there's not fair Lady Galadriel to greet us. Although I'd fly across oceans for her, I doubt there'll be anyone so fair to greet us.

She turns her face up to the sky. "It's going to snow before dark," she says. "Christmas is almost here."

"What's this Christmas everyone's so excited about?" I ask. "Time o' gift givin'?"

She nods. "It's kind of like the Elven Yule. You give those you care about gifts, and they give you gifts, and holy HELL, I have to go shopping. Fuck."

I just sit there and blink at her for a minute. "Shopping? By the stones, what for?"

She makes a hopeless gesture in the general direction of the castle. "I'm with those kids every day," she mutters. "I can't NOT get them something for CHRISTMAS."

Y'know, knowin' the lass like I do, it's easy to sometimes forget that, for all of her skills in battle, she's still a girl, and a young one at that. For some reason, such things are important to the females of any species. Yet another reason I've never found me a wife.

I look up as one of the girls who's been watching the Elves finally gets up the stones to come and speak to Kayli. "Um," the lass says nervously, and if she's seen fifteen winters, I'm an Orc. "Are you, like, with the blond guy?"

Kayli bares her teeth. "Which blond guy?" she asks.

I snort in to my pipe. Like she doesn't know."

The girl gestures at Legolas. "The one who isn't so scary," the girl says.

Now I nearly choke on my pipesmoke. Girl needs new eyes. Granted, Thranduil is the more intimidating of the two, but Legolas is fearsome as well. Obviously the lass has never seen him slay an Orc.

"You mean my husband?" Kayli asks, just as mild as can be. If you don't know her, that is. If this lass knew half of what Kayli is capable of, she'd run screamin' for the castle. "Why, yes, I am with him."

One of the young one's friends peeks out from behind her. "What about the other one?" she asks.

Kayli sighs. "They are NOT that 'blond guy' and 'the other one'," she says shortly. "Their names are Legolas, who is my husband, and Thranduil, who is his father. They're ELVES, nimwit, not fuel for your prepubescent fantasies. They're warriors who have seen things your tiny little brains aren't even capable of comprehending. And yes, Thranduil is also married. So come back when you have real, respectful questions, not when you're hoping to score some time with a hot guy. Show a little respect for your elders."

"They're not THAT old," the first girl says. "And there's no way the one guy is the other one's father."

I can practically hear Kayli gritting her teeth. Now might be a good time to step in before she draws a blade.

"I would guess that -- what was yer term, there, lassie? -- 'that one guy' has seen the dawn and death of more'n fifty centuries. Now, do ye need me or the lass to tell ye how many years are in a century, or can ye figure that out on yer own? Now, as for 'the other one', he's also seen more centuries than anyone here ever will --"

"Combined," Kayli adds.

" -- and since he's survived all o' those centuries with his life and sanity, not to mention that pretty face ye brainless wonder were so admirin', he deserves to be called by his rightful name. Come back when you have enough respect to learn how to pronounce it."

"Without mangling it," Kayli adds.

"You can't TALK to us like that," the first one says, sounding shocked. "Bitch."

Kayli suddenly grins, baring more teeth than you'd think was possible. "Wrong answer. House?"

The second girl looks absolutely depressed. "We're Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw? Really? Aren't Ravenclaws renouned for their intelligence?"

"Couldn't tell it by these two," I say casually, and relax back against the tree to watch the teacher in the lass go to work.

"Fifty points from Ravenclaw, for disrespect to a teacher," she says, "and YES, I am a teacher. And yes, I do demand respect. I may not teach anything you find particularly useful, but I don't find Divination useful, and I still manage to respect Professor Trelawney AND Firenze. Now watch your mouths, before I am forced to take more points from your House, and go away. I'm tired of listening to you."

"I'm sorry," the second girl whispers.

Kayli just looks at the lass. "It's all right," she says. "You didn't get snippy with me. But show a little respect for our visitors, all right? Legolas and Thranduil are those two right there. Elladan and Elrohir are the other two Elves. My companion right here is Gimli, son of Gloin. What you kids don't seem to understand is that where we come from, these are great leades and warriors. They're all at least partly responsible for saving our world, and they deserve a little respect."

"Yes, ma'am," the first girl says softly.

"If you have question about them, you can ask, but only if they're respectful questions that have actual merit. And you'd better tell the rest of those girls that I KNOW that the Weasley twins sell love potions, and the first one who tries to slip a love potion to my husband OR my father in law will face ME, and I'm scarier than you kids give me credit for. Got it?"

The first girl giggles, suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that one of the Slytherins already tried that. They won't take anything from any of the students."

Kayli grinned. "Thanks for telling me. Which one?"

"Your husband," she says, still grinning. "He asked her what was in it, and she can't lie to save her life. He ended up taking fifty points from Slytherin."

"Good for him," Kayli says comfortably. "Ten points to Ravenclaw for honesty. Now don't ANY of you girls have homework, or something?"

They both nod and scurry back to the castle, whispering and giggling amongst themselves.

I pat her arm. "Ye handled that well, lass," I tell her.

She makes a face. "No, I really didn't," she replies. "But I'm getting really tired of the whispering and giggling in the hallways. It doesn't bother me what they say about me, but when it comes to them, especially Legolas -- " She trails off and shrugs. "They deserve more respect than they're being given here. So do the twins."

"Although not MUCH more," I add.

She smirks at me.

-- Elrohir --

These children are going to drive me insane. They follow us wherever we go. Not just 'Dan and I -- King Thranduil and Legolas, as well. And if I'M on the verge of snapping at them, 'Dan must be ready to explode. Although he's held it in admirably so far. I'm proud of him.

Now if we can just get out of here before we kill someone.

We have managed to escape from their hall of Healing. Their Healer -- or nurse, or whatever they call her -- has more questions than Estel did when he first came to Imladris. And he was a CHILD. She seems to be grateful for all the knowledge we've given her, and for that I'm grateful.

We wander down by the lake, close enough to hear Kayli's dressing down of the two students. I'm actually a bit touched by her speech. We are the sons of a great Lord in our own world, and the grandson of a Lord and Lady who are truly the stuff of legend, but we are nothing in this world. And it touches me to hear Kayli defend us so.

I glance at Elladan, and catch sight of his delighted grin. I guess I'm not the only one.

We walk towards them as they are finishing up their conversation. More than close enough to catch Gimli's snide comment.

Immediately, 'Dan clasps both hands over his heart. "Son of Gloin! You wound me!"

Gimli gives us a disgusted look, but I can see the glimmer of laughter in his eyes. "Spoke nothin' but the truth, and ye both know it," he says, with dignity, and makes us both laugh.

'Tis painfully true, some of the time, at least. There are times we have given our father precious little to be proud of.

'Dan drops down next to Kayli, sprawling on the grass with the sort of casual ease I could never manage in a crowd of this many people, even if nary a one is paying attention to us. I crouch down not far from them, but turned so that I can keep an eye on the group of admirers sorrounding our Mirkwood royals.

"Dumbledore said you had news. He would have told us himself, but he had something of urgency to take care of," 'Dan says, tilting his head at what looks like a painful angle, so he can see Kayli's face.

Kayli shrugs. "He asked me to take the kids across the Atlantic. There's something Harry needs to do over there, and Dumbledore's canny enough to relize that Hermione and Ron aren't gonna be content to sit around and wave goodbye when the time comes."

I can understand that. Nor would we have been. "And this kingdom they plan to go to -- 'tis your homeland?"

She starts to nod, stops, then shrugs. "Once upon a time, I guess. Now Gondor's my home." She stares out over the lake, seeming to look through the crowd of students admiring Legolas's...archery. "I don't know how well I'll fit in, but I think I can remember my way around Americans."

"And where you go, Legolas goes," I say.

"And where Legolas goes, his Ada and our Dwarven friend are not far behind," 'Dan adds.

"And if ye think we're gonna leave you two t' reek havoc on the poor humans, ye've got another thing comin'," Gimli says, waving a finger at us, like an old maid.

The image of Gimli as an old maid makes me smile, and I send the image to Elladan without a second thought. He chokes on his laughter and manages to make it into a polite cough. "We would be overjoyed to accompany you," he says smoothly, although I know nothing would make him happier than turning Fred and George's hair green.

All of the hair on their bodies, that is.

"So what are the people like, in this 'America'?" Dan asks.

Kayli frowns, seeming to think about this. "They're kind of...rude. And self-involved, most of them. But there are some who are...overjoyed to help, even though most of them don't give a damn."

'Dan and I exchange glances. "Aye, they sound very human," 'Dan says drily. "We have encountered several such settlements in our travels."

She sighs. "We're leaving just after Christmas," she says quietly. "But before then, I need to get to Hogsmeade and do some shopping. What do you guys want for Christmas, anyways? What do you get Elves?"

We both stare at her blankly. Then turn to look at each other.

"She sounds a bit like Grandmother," I say softly.

"Maybe it's a female thing?" Dan suggests. "Being concerned with holidays and gifts. You know how Ata'na gets around Yule."

She rolls her eyes. "Forget it."

'Dan sits up and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "'Tis a sweet thought, Kayli, and whatever you get us will be fine. We care little for gifts, but that you thought of us touches us greatly."

I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Aye."

"But that doesn't mean we're helping you pick out Legolas's gift."

She laughs, her eyes lighting back up, her worries temporarily banished.

We may only be comedy in this world, but so be it. Everyone needs to laugh, yes?

TBC...


	17. Merry Christmas!

-- Legolas --

At least now I know what to do when she's angry with me.

Buy her a gift.

I was rather rudely woken this morning by a very...feminine squeal, and then the feel of my wife scrambling over me -- complete with an elbow to the throat -- to get at the pile of gifts at the end of our bed. She tosses a few at me, then starts tearing into her own gifts.

"Wake up!" she hollers. "It's Christmas!"

I rub a hand over my eyes and sit up, taking a moment to admire my wife. She's sitting on the floor, hair wild, wearing one of my shirts -- which she insists on sleeping in, Elbereth knows why -- and tearing into her gifts with a huge and child-like smile on her face. I know there's something in there from myself, and Adar, as well as Gimli and both sons of Elrond. Where the rest of that pile came from, I have no idea.

She looks up at me and grins. "Open your presents! I want you to see what I got you."

I smile slightly, I can't help it. She's just...she's a joy, she truly is.

Although I can't help but wonder how she will react to returning to her homeland. I know she's still most insistent that Gondor is her home, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. 'Twas her home long before she had ever heard of Middle-Earth, and there are memories there that have nothing to do with us. She has family there, by birth, and friends she has not seen in over a year, as humans measure time.

But I know enough of this world to know it is not a place I could remain.

These are morbid thoughts, and I will not linger on them. I love her, and I know she loves me. She gave up all thoughts of returning to her home in order to stay in Middle-Earth, and I doubt that's changed much. And besides, judging from the expression on my beloved's face, today is a day of joy. I smile at her and start to open my own gifts.

I seem to have gotten a ridiculous number of gifts from very young female admirers, and most of it seems to be food. Do they truly think I'm foolish enough to eat anything they give me? I've already had several people -- Professor Dumbledore and the Weasley twins among them -- warn me that the Weasley 'joke shop' sells love potions, although I don't see what's amusing about forcing someone to love someone else. Even Professor Snape -- who loathes the very sight of us -- has warned Adar and I not to eat or drink anything the students give us.

Children can be very, very foolish. I set this pile aside to throw it away -- and dispose of it completely, so that no poor student is forced to fall in love with someone they don't even know.

Kayli, meanwhile, is paging through a book with a bemused expression on her face. I lean down and press a kiss to her hair. "Hermione?"

"Yep. Of course it was Hermione. Who else would give me a book?" she asks, looking slightly amused.

"I have one as well. On werewolves, I believe. I haven't the heart to tell her I don't read their language."

She shrugs. "I have one on dark creatures," she says. "And I DO read the language. Maybe she thinks it'll be useful."

I tilt her face up and kiss her. "Memories, love," I reply.

She smiles up at me. "I see you got lots and lots of sweets," she says, and rolls her eyes. "Do those girls think you're stupid?"

"Apparently. I'll get rid of it." I nudge a box of what looks like chocolate towards her. "So did you."

"Ron," she replies. "Naturally. The kid thinks with his stomach." She pulls two brightly wrapped packages from the bottom of the pile. "And these are from Ron's mother. Mrs. Weasley, who, by all accounts, could give your Adar a run for his money in the 'scary parent' sweepstakes."

I take the package, although a bit hesitantly. "Why would a woman we've never met give us gifts?"

Kayli shrugs and starts tearing hers open. "I have no idea. She'll be here later today, maybe we can ask her."

She peeks under the paper, and dissolves into a gale of laughter. "It's sweater. A bona fide Weasley sweater!" She pulls it out and holds it up. "I can overlook the fact that it's pink. It's actually kinda pretty." She looks up at me and grins. "Open yours!" she says, and scrambles up onto the bed next to me. "I wanna see!"

I grimace, but open mine, if only to keep her happy.

...It's green, at least. And rather well-made, actually. There are patterns of leaves around the sleeves and collar.

It wouldn't look out of place at court, actually, which is rather frightening. Professor Dumbledore gave us both boxes of some kind of candy -- Kayli calls them Every Flavor Beans, which I don't find all that appetizing -- and Ron also gave us candy. Also with Professor Dumbledore's gift to me is two feathers, long and glorious. Kayli and I both stare at these.

Then Kayli's eyes go wide, and she reaches out to touch them. "PHEONIX feathers," she breathes. "Fancy magic arrows, Legolas?"

My eyes narrow, and I set those aside. They could be useful. "I wonder how he persuaded his pheonix to part with them," I muse.

She shrugs, examining her gift from Neville, the shy, rather chubby one. It seems to be a tiny, working model of starts and planets, and there are several charts with it, obviously hand-drawn, but very well done. "This," she says, poking one of the planets, "is nifty."

She sets this aside, very carefully, and opens the package from Harry. A book, as it was with Hermione, this one on that game they play on their enchanted brooms. She makes a face. "I can learn all about Quidditch throughout history. Does it have a chapter on how not to fall of your damn broom?"

I laugh. I can't help it. Kayli is only clumsy at great heights.

There are other gifts -- Elladan and Elrohir gave me useful things -- whetstones, feathers for fletching -- and Kayli a rather cunning clock on a chain. She giggles. "A pocketwatch! Cool!"

There is only one gift from Gimli, for the both of us, a rather charming box made of some light and sturdy stone, with gold and silver inlaid in the lid. No doubt handcrafted.

When the last gift is opened -- from Adar, a necklace for her and a quiver for me -- my father is practical, even in this world -- Kayli climbs on to my lap and wraps her arms around me. She seems to have an obsession with using me as a chair. "Merry Christmas," she murmurs, and kisses me.

-- Harry --

I have to say, I'm a bit nervous about our trip later today. I know Ron is as well, although you couldn't tell by the way he's stuffing his face. And Hermione's been cramming on the magical culture of America.

It's been a busy morning. We've already opened all of our presents. The box of maggots from Kreacher I could have done without. A Weasley sweater, and books from Hermione -- the usual, in other words.

Kayli's present was nice, though. Ron and I both got swords, how cool is that? There are emeralds in the hilt of mine -- to go with my eyes, the note said -- while Ron's is rubies, to go with his hair. Elladan and Elrohir gave us sharpening stones, along with a warning not to cut ourselves when we sat down to breakfast. And King Thranduil told us -- very firmly -- that if he caught us practicing without supervision, we'd realize why his sons thought he was cruel when they were children.

The best part, though, was when Elladan and Elrohir came down to breakfast wearing Weasley sweaters. Thranduil -- King Thranduil, I mean -- choked on his pumpkin juice. And when Kayli and Legolas came down, they were also wearing Weasley sweaters.

Kayli plopped down next to Ron and plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. "Why, pray tell, did your mother give us sweaters? And sweets?"

Ron hurries up and swallows a huge bite of bacon. "Well, I told her about you, and she wants you guys to feel at home while you're here, I guess." He shrugs. "I think she feels sorry for you."

Kayli grins and smoothes the sleeves of her sweater. "Remind me to thanks her. It's WARM, even if it is pink."

Ron and I look at each other and laugh. "Should've known," he says. "I told Mum you weren't really a girly-girl, but I don't think she heard me."

Hermione leans around us to look intently at Kayli. "We're taking Muggle transportation to America," she says.

We know this. It's all Hermione's been talking about all day. She's all excited about getting on the plane. She spent five minutes explaining one to Ron, who still hasn't figured out how it stays up without magic. Of course, all Hermione and I can tell him is that it has engines. I was neever really interested in airplanes.

Kayli raises her eyebrows. "Wow. That's...kinda cool. I don't really like planes, but it's better than having to take a broom."

Legolas and Thranduil just look at each other, then look at us, and start conversing quietly in Elvish.

Ron grins at her. "Charlie swears up and down he's gonna get you on a broom."

She snorts. Across the table, the noise makes Thranduil rolls his eyes and Elladan shudder. "Not a chance in hell, kiddo."

"Ron! Ginny!"

Ah, the rest of the Weasley Clan has arrived. Ginny immediately bounces up to hug her mum, and Ron suffers through the same thing. And then she comes over and wraps her arms around me and asks how I'm doing.

"I'm good, Mrs. Weasley." I grin and hold my arms out. "Thanks for the sweater."

Behind me, Kayli stands up and steps forward, automatically shaking her hair forward so it partially hides the scar. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley, I'm Kayli. I wanted to say thank you."

Mrs. Weasley beams at her. "Well, aren't you a pretty one!"

Kayli's eyebrows nearly disappear into her hair, but her smile gets a little armer. "Thank you. She holds her arms forward. "For the sweater and the sweets, too." She looks at the table and clears her throat. "Boys," she says.

Elladan and Elrohir don't notice, and neither does Legolas, who's deep in conversation with Gimli.

"Legolas," King Thranduil says mildly. "You're being rude."

Legolas looks up autmatically, then stands, kicking a twin's ankle on the way up.

Hermione giggles.

Kayli folds her arms over her chest and stares at them. Legolas laughs at the look on her face and kisses her.

Elladan and Elrohir step forward, take up position in front of Mrs. Weasley, press their hands over their hearts, and bow deeply. "My lady," one of the says.

"We wanted to thank you for your kind gifts," says the other.

Mrs. Weasley laughs and flutters her hands at them. "Oh, it's really nothing."

They straighten up and one of them beams at her. I think it's Elladan. "But it is something," he says gently. He takes her hand. "A kind gesture from a beautiful woman." He bows again, and kisses her hand.

She laughs, and blushes.

Kayli laughs. "Flirt," she says.

Elladan -- it's definitely Elladan -- turns and gives her a shocked look. "Me?" he says, pressing a hand over his heart, just to complete the image. "'Tis not flirting, merely stating the truth."

Mr. Weasley wraps an arm around Mrs. Weasley's waist. "Could you be a little less flirtatious when stating the truth?" he asks, smiling slightly.

Elladan laughs, and turns back to them, bowing again. "I apologize, sir. But I must say, you are a lucky man."

Elrohir rolls his eyes heavenward, but Mr. Weasley laughs. "That I know," he replies, and kisses Mrs. Weasley's cheek.

Elrohir elbows his twin. "Forgive my brother," he says. "It's his natural exuberance."

"ONE of us has to have some fun," Elladan objects.

Kayli rolles her eyes and pushes them back towards their seats. Ron grins at his mum, who's still blushing. "That's Elladan and Elrohir," he says. "Only a couple people can tell them apart, but Elladan's the one who's joking all the time, and Elrohir's the serious one."

"Mundane on the description, doesn't do us justice," Elladan says.

"Shut up, 'Dan," Elrohir says, still cheerful.

Ron ignores them and gestures to our other guests. "You've already met Kayli, and that's her husband, Legolas. The taller of the two gentlement over there is Thranduil, and his companion is Gimli."

Mrs. Weasley beams at all of them. Legolas bows, and Thranduil stands to do the same thing. Gimli inclines his head politely.

She laughs. "So formal!" And with that, she ushers everyone back into their seats, and sits down next to Legolas and Gimli.

She smiles brightly at Kayli. "So," she says. "Ron says you're not from around here. What is it you do at home?"

TBC...

Laureloth -- Wow. That's a LOT of reading to do at once. Thank you, so much. I tried, I really did, but I'm never sure how well I do.

Sylvia Viridian -- Where have you been? I swear, I haven't seen you in a while. Just, SH! Don't say that in front of the twins. Either set. Oh, wait, duh, there's another review. I'm sorry. Maybe I haven't been paying good enough attention. But I'm back now, and planning on staying here until probably October, when I'll drop of the face of the Earth again for a couple months.

Andi -- I'm sorry! RL SUCKS! There was the moving, and a car accident -- BOOM! My poor Betsy...but anyway, I'm back and I'm trying.

Firefox -- You're welcome! Sorry it took me so long! Thank you!

Mangolady -- I'm a little nervous about the plane, honestly. So is Kayli. Thanks!

Crazyroninchick -- Honestly, so am I. Although...hmmm. Return of the king, you say...Thoughts! Thanks!

Kat -- Kayli's pretty worried to! She didn't wanna take Elves! Thanks!

ogreatrandom -- Ya'll are never gonna let me forget that, are you? I'm sorry! I was mugged on the road of life, man. Thanks!

RedDevil15 -- It's gonna be great I think. Well, for us. It's probably gonna suck for them.

Nota Lone -- I like him too. He's so cute! Thanks!

If I missed anyone, let me know, and I'll definitely include you next time!


	18. Mistletoe And Kisses

-- Kayli ---

Well, how to answer THAT, now.

"Um," I say, very intelligently, and look at everyone else for help.

Ron and Harry are staring very intently at their plates, Hermione is engrossed in her book, Ginny is staring at me with wide eyes, and Fred and George look at each other, look back at me, and shrug. Elladan and Elrohir are looking back and forth between me and Mrs. Weasley like spectators at a tennis match. Legolas and Gimli are still deeply involved in conversation, and Thranduil is watching me with an amused expression.

"Um," I say again. "I'm a bit of a...guardian, I supposed you could say."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widen. "Really, now," she says, still cheerfully. She frowns, switching moods faster than Galadriel. "I understand that you're teaching a physical defense class." She turns and glares at Ron. "Ronald told me it was dueling club."

"It kind of is," I respond. My hands are sweating. God, she reminds me of MY mother. She has that...Mom vibe. "They do have opponents, but we have a different kind of dueling in my world." I rake a hand through my hair. "They're currently using wooden weapons. I don't quite trust these kids with edged weapons."

She smooths her hair. "Well, I'm not to sure how useful this skill you're teaching could be, but, well, if they want to learn..." She trails off, sighs, and shrugs. "I suppose it can't hurt. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Harry leans over and whispers in my ear. "If you don't trust us with edged weapons, how come you gave us swords?"

"I trust YOU," I whisper back. "And I trust Ron, but am I seriously suppose to trust Nott or Goyle? I don't think so." I glare at him. "And don't you dare bring those to class, buster."

He grins. "Yes, ma'am."

Mr. Weasley leans around his wife. "So..." he says, and smiles. He really does have a sweet smile. "You're a Muggle?"

I grin. "Yeah, I'm a Muggle."

"And your companions, they are, too?"

I laugh and shake my head. "No, sir. They're...something else."

He blinks at me. "Like what?"

I look at Thranduil, who's watching with an amused expression. "We're Elves," he replies. "I don't think you have anything like us in this world."

Both Weasley parents just stare at him for a moment, then turn and look at each other. "House-Elves?" Mrs. Weasley says.

Thranduil frowns. "What?"

I shake my head. "I've never heard of them, sorry. But no, they're not House-Elves. What the hell's a House-Elf?"

"They're household slaves," Hermione says darkly. "Usually poorly treated, with no pay, and no time off, and they don't even get VACATION." She whips out a file folder from inside her robes and starts reeling off statistics. "Hogwarts has the highest House-Elf population in Britain, and they ARE slightly better treated than the House-Elves elsewhere, but the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare --"

"Spew," Ron mutters.

"Hermione," I say, trying to not sound mean, "shut up, okay? We don't care. We're not from around here."

"Well, that's definitely not us," Elladan said drily.

Now Mr. Weasley looks more and more curious. "Well, then what IS an Elf?" he asks. "I mean, obviously you gentlemen are, but what makes Elves so different from humans?"

Legolas and Thranduil exchange a glance. Then Thranduil sighs, and leans forward, and starts to explain.

I know all this, so I tune it out, and turn back to the looking around the table. Fred and George are deep in conversation with Remus -- I wonder when he got here? -- and Hermione looks like she's pouting a little. Elladan and Elrohir are occassionally interjecting something into teh conversation with Legolas and Thranduil and the Weasleys.

Eventually, we escape breakfast, with promises to Dumbledore that we're going to come back down for the dinner. The whole big group thing. We all go our seperate ways, laughing and joking, until we hear a cry of "Wait!"

We all turn back around, and look at Hermione, who points up, smiling dreamily. "Mistletoe!"

Thranduil glances around. First he looks at Gimli, and an expression of revulsion crosses his face. The Dwarf takes two big steps back. "Don't even think about it, ye poncy Elvish bastard!" Thranduil laughs, shakes his head, and bends down to press a kiss to Ginny's cheek. "There," he says drily, "my requirements are fulfilled."

Hermione looks at Ginny and laughs. The younger girl is blushing so furiously she nearly matches her hair. "We're outnumbered!"

Just then, poor Professor MacGonagall steps into the doorway. Elladan and Elrohir exchange a glance, grin, and then Elrohir -- ELROHIR -- steps forward, sweeps the poor, unsuspecting Professor into a dip, and kisses both of her cheeks, then sweeps her back up to her feet, steps back and bows. "A trifle for the fair lady," he says.

Fred and George are both staring at him with their mouths open. They NEVER would have been brave enough to try that.

"What on EARTH -- " the Professor says.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all point up and say "Mistletoe" at the exact same moment.

She straightens her robes and glares at Elrohir.

Mr. Weasley laughs and steals a kiss from his wife. "There!" he says. "The rest of you on your own."

Legolas leans down and kisses me quickly. "There," he says, and shoots a glare at the others. "Try it," he invites, his tone saying 'I dare you.'

Harry laughs. "Not likely," he says, then quickly kisses Hermione's cheek, then Ginny's, and then leans over and kisses Mrs. Weasey's for good measure. Then, grinning from ear to ear, he steps forward and kisses MacGonagall's too. "For the fair lady," he says, and bows.

Elladan laughs. "Lad's learning!"

Fred and George step forward, each wrapping an arm around their mother's shoulders before leaning in and kissing her cheeks, perfectly in sync. "For the OTHER fair lady," George says.

"Fairest lady in our lives," Fred adds.

Mrs. Weasley blushes and kisses them both. There are actually tears in her eyes.

Everyone turns around and stares at Ron. He blushes, stares at his shoes, and steals a glance at Hermione, before he ducks in and gives her a peck -- right on the lips. "There," he mutters. "Happy?"

Hermione is blushing furiously.

I roll my eyes. "Are we all done acting like little kids under the mistletoe?"

"Elladan?" Elrohir says.

Elladan widens his eyes at his brother.

MacGonagal plants her hands on her hips and glares at him. "If he can dare the dragon's lair, so can you," she says severely.

"Hoping for a kiss from both of us," 'Dan sighs, then leans over and pecks her cheek. "There, fair lady, a kiss for you." He turns and kisses Ginny's cheek. "And for this one. Two Elves in one day, what a lucky girl."

Ginny giggles and pokes him in the stomach.

I grin and lean against Legolas.

Happy Christmas, indeed.

-- Hermione --

He kissed me! Ron actually KISSED ME!

Gah.

I'm so happy I practically DANCE into my dorm room. Lavender and Parvati are gone for Christmas, and I have the whole place to myself, thank goodness. That way no way sees me do my ecstatic little dance through the middle of the room.

I plop down on the side of my bed and grin like a fool.

I'm allowed to be a little girly ONCE in awhile, after all. Ron might not have realized that in fourth year, but maybe he knows it now.

Perhaps I should dress up a little for our special Christmas tonight. Maybe wear a dress, and makeup, and fix up my hair...and oh, who am I KIDDING? I want Ron to like me for ME, not for who I can pretend I am, and I'm very good at pretending. I used to read BEFORE I came to Hogwarts, too, you know, and I spent a great deal of time in fantasy lands.

Some of it in Middle-Earth, now that I think about it.

That brings a thought to me. Kayli! Kayli's got a husband, and she MUST know how to attract a guy. I sit down in front of the mirror -- I don't get to use it very much, usually, Lavender and Parvati hog all the mirror-time -- and start to brush my hair, looking thoughtfully at my reflection.

Then I slam the brush down on the table, put my head in my hands, and think for a minute. That would be nice, I think. To actually be a girl for once, a really smart girl who also happens to be pretty, instead of one of the guys.

Not that I'm pretty, but still.

Yes, Kayli is a good idea.

I practically run up to the sixth floor. I stop, shift nervously from foot-to-foot, then gather up my courage and knock on the door. I hear someone yell "Just a moment!" -- Legolas, I think -- and then a quick burst of laughter. And then Legolas pulls open the door. And I forget to breathe for a moment.

Oh, my.

His hair is all loose, and his shirt is open at the collar. I clear my throat and manage to smile, though I imagine my face is positively BEET red by now. "Is Kayli here?"

He nods. "Aye, doing --" he gestures back towards the bedroom of the apartment. "Something feminine, I think. Kayli, you have a visitor!" He gestures me in and closes the door behind him.

Kayli comes out of the bedroom, and she looks lovely. She's wearing a long dress, pale green. It's sleeveless, with wide straps, and a skirt that's full and sort of flouncy. She looks beautiful, and you can tell Legolas thinks so, too, just by the way he's leaning back against the door and smiling at her.

She grins at me, this full-blown, happy, it's-Christmas-and-I'm-in-love smile. "Hermione. Hi. What' s up?"

I smile. "You look great."

She smiles that smile again, sweet and girlish for a girl who's fought in all these huge battles, and come out not only alive but on the winning team. Sweet and girlish for someone who can take down Orcs with nothing but a couple of kitchen knives, basically. She does a little spin in the middle of the room, her hair flying out behind her. "Really?"

"Oh, so you'll take her word for it, but not your own husband's?" Legolas asks drily.

She walks over to him and pokes a finger into his chest. "You, my love," she says, "are biased."

"Very," he agrees readily enough, and kisses her.

She laughs and snuggles into him in a way that is so adorable I practically turn to goo. I've always been a schmuck for romance novels. "Did you need something, hon?" she asks me.

I blush again, and one of her eyebrows goes up. It always irritates her when Legolas gives her that look, but I don't think she even knows she's picked it up. She pulls away from him and makes a shooing gesture towards the door. "You. Out. GIrl talk."

He rolls his eyes. "I'll just go talk to father. About absolutely nothing. While you girls...chat."

She kisses his cheek. "Good boy."

He makes a face at her and ducks out the door.

"God," I say, "you two are ADORABLE."

Kayli laughs again and plops down on the sofa, tucking her bare feet up under her skirt. "Maybe," she says. "What do you need?"

I stare at my shoes for a minute, formulating a reply. Usually I'm good with words, but on this subject I always get tongue-tied. "Well," I manage eventually, "I was just wondering if maybe, you could, you know, help me out a little."

She blinks at me, then sighs and closes her eyes. "Oh, God, this is one of the REALLY girly things, isn't it? Man, I wish Iariel were here. She's so much better at this than I am. Or Edana, Arwen, Eowyn, hell, even GALADRIEL is a better choice than me." She tucks her hair behind her ears and frowns at me. "Are we just talking clothes here, or are we talking makeup and hair and the whole nine yards?"

I make a gesture. "The whole thing."

She grins. "All right," she says, and stands up. "Let's do this."

-- Legolas --

This is a part of Kayli that is rarely seen. The more...well, feminine part of her, I suppose. The part that actually ENJOYS the machinations of being female, of doing...whatever it is that women do to make themselves beautiful, not just to the males of whatever species, but to make themselves beautiful to themselves.

It's an odd thing, the female mind. I don't think there's a male creature in ANY world that understands the workings of the female mind. She is currently involved in fighting the...hedge on Hermione's head into behaving the way it's supposed to. She's somehow managed to tame it into a mass of ringlets that actually looks rather nice. And the girl is wearing a dark blue dress, and doesn't look anything like the scholar I see every day.

Ron is about to have the shock of his young life.

Kayli finally nudges Hermione around so the girl can take a look at herself in the mirror. And her jaw drops. Behind her, Kayli grins triumphantly. "Not bad, eh?"

Hermione squeals, spins around, and hugs Kayli so hard I swear she's going to crack my wife's ribs. Kayli, however, just laughs and hugs her back. "Come on, beautiful," she says, and wraps an arm around Hermione's shoulders, "let's go down to dinner."

This Hall is as strange as I have seen it in my time here, if not stranger. The ceiling seems to be snowing, a gentle fall that lands and disappears. There are at least ten brightly decorated trees in the hall. Everyone is brightly dressed. Harry and Ron are both wearing their bright Weasley sweaters, Elladan and Elrohir are dressed in new robes, as is my father. Even Dumbledore appears especially bright tonight. Snape, however, is once again dressed in head to toe black.

He's depressing to even look at.

Very soon, we're sitting down, absolute stuffing ourselves on food that is excellently prepared. Ron's parents have utterly given up on engaging him in conversation, as they have to say his name twice to even get his attention, and then he jumps like someone hit him, and three words later he's back to staring at Hermione, looking like someone just caught up the side of the head.

Fred and George are currently doing a design on the top of his head with vegetables. Elladan and Elrohir are writing something in Elvish on his back with sauces. Both of his parents are very resolutely ignoring this. Dumbledore seems to be amused by it all. Snape sneers at them every once in awhile, but seems to be under the impression that Ron deserves what he gets, simply for being Harry's friend. The old bat with all the shawls is completely oblivious, and Professor MacGonagall is overlooking it all with a disapproving expression, although it's offset by the fact that her lips keep twitching. And father simply shook his head and returned to his conversation with Gimli.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that my father would have such rapport with my Dwarven friend.

I lean back in my seat and run my fingers through Kayli's hair. Without losing the beat of her conversation with Hermione, she reaches out and clasps my other hand. I smile slightly and bring it to my lips.

I just sit there, my hand on wife's hair, content to listen for now. Still without missing a beat of her conversation -- the older Weasley boy has joined in, the one they call Charlie -- she begins gathering the holly boughs decorating the table and weaving them together. In a few minutes, she has a crown in her hands. Grinning from ear to ear, she stands, leans over, and places it on my father's head. "There," she says, "your crown, Majesty."

He bows his head politely, then straightens it almost absently. Unless my memory decieves, he has one almost exactly like it at home -- except crafted my Eriadhras. "Thank you, daughter," he says, then leans forward and kisses her cheek.

It warms my heart to see them so at ease with each other.

Perhaps all this has a purpose after all, perhaps we weren't just brought here by blind luck. And although I know I could never be at home here, and nor could Kayli, no matter how comfortable she is around these people, we will both miss them when we return to our world.

But, perhaps between now and then, we will get to have an adventure or two, yes? I maybe old by human reckoning, but I thrive on such things, as do Kayli and the Dwarf. Perhaps we will return to Middle-Earth with tales that will shock our brothers and Aragorn into silence.

I think that alone would be worth it.

TBC...


	19. Welcome To America

-- Elladan --

These...are strange contraptions. Kayli says they fly. I don't think this oversized winged egg will ever get off the ground, myself, but she knows best. This is much closer to her world than Middle-Earth. Of course, these days, Middle-Earth is her world.

Elrohir is sitting next to me, trying to figure out the harness. He's currently swearing at it. Hermione is working on buckling Ron into his. Harry is firmly seated and tied in, looking around with avid interest. Kayli is already firmly seated and tied down -- why must you be tied into your chair? I don't think I like this -- with her eyes squeezed shut and her face buried in Legolas shoulder. His arms are around her -- soothing her as best he can She is absolutely petrified of heights.

King Thranduil is relaxed, and has already bemusedly ordered a drink Gimli is in his seat, the belt knotted -- yes, knotted, he couldn't work the buckle -- around his middle, with his knuckles white on the arms of his seat, and his eyes squeezed firmly shut. He looks very strange in the garments Kayli selected for him. He's wearing the blue trousers Kayli calls 'jeans' and a black shirt. He looks wrong without his helmet. But at least he combed his hair and beard.

He's not the only one who looks ridiculous.'Ro just looks silly, and I can't imagine that I look any better. We're both wearing baggy pants, and loose shirts, and wearing our hair unbraided. To cover our ears, Kayli says, since our ears will attract the most attention -- like we hadn't noticed at Hogwarts. And, as Kayli keeps insisting, there's a difference between Hogwarts and this outside world. Hogwarts is used to magical things, and those things that are different are common at Hogwarts.

Well, except Elves. And Dwarves. And I doubt that even they had ever met anyone like Kayli. She is unique, even among her own kind.

They announce our departure over what Kayli calls an 'intercom', but what sounds more like humans masquerading as the Valar to me. Next to me, Elrohir jumps, and a little sign comes on at the front of the room. Elrohir finally swears and slams the buckle into place.

It's a good thing he didn't miss. He would've lost a finger.

We feel our transportation start to move under us, and all of the blood drains out of Elrohir's face. Kayli lets out a muffled sound and fists her hands in Legolas's shirt. And I can hear Gimli grinding his teeth. Alas, for the hearing of Elves. Ron says 'Whoa' very quietly, and Harry mutters something under his breath, which I am very sure is not a word he should know at his tender age. And it's not even his own language. 'Ro opens his eyes long enough to shoot me a nasty glare and shake his head.

He didn't pick that up from me. I certainly never use that kind of language.

'Ro rolls his eyes. And then this...thing starts to rise into the air, and my stomach drops to my feet. Oh, what a nauseating sensation.

Kayli lets out a quiet, pained noise, and buries her face further into Legolas's neck. And speaking of the Prince of Mirkwood, he's not looking well himself. Thranduil, however, appears to be taking it all in stride, if such a thing is even possible.

I really no longer feel well.

"This SUCKS," Ron mutters.

Kayli whimpers.

Finally, this thing levels out, and the 'intercom' says that our 'cruising height' is at 36,000 feet.

At this pronounciment, Elrohir looks deathly ill. I don't feel much better.

That's a long bloody way to fall.

The flight is thoroughly uneventful, thank the Valar. Gimli spends the whole trip tied into his chair, flatly refusing to even open his eyes. Kayli eventually opens her eyes and buries her face in the book Hermione gave her for Yule. Harry is staring intently out his window, an expression of wonder on his face. And Elrohir is drinking steadily. So is Thranduil. Hermione, however, also has her nose buried in a book, and is currently boring Ron to tears with facts about the magical culture of America.

Many, many hours later, after I've slipped into reverie for a while, the...driver of this giant winged carriage announces that we're now landing at 'Lindbergh Airport', whatever that is. This thing touches the ground once more, and Legolas sets about prying Kayli's fingers out of his clothes. Hermione jumps out of her seat and starts helping Ron unbuckle his, after she watches him struggle. Thranduil tries to help Gimli untie his.

We exit the 'airplane,' and stop to stare.

Kayli pokes me in the small of the back. "I know, I know. Not really a welcomng enviroment. You saw it all at Glasgow, bows. Keep moving. Get me OFF this thing."

Elrohir and I exchange panicked glances, and disembark.

Oh, this is not our world.

-- Kayli --

Customs in hell. Now I realize why my older brother hates traveling for his job. He's never had to leave the country.

I don't think so, at least. Remember, I haven't seen him in a while.

We present our fake ID's -- somehow they managed to get me a driver's license, Social Security card, and everything -- and I head over to the car rental counter.

Here's hoping I remember how to drive.

GOD! What is taking so long? I haven't had to wait in a line this long for...well, ever, basically. There ARE no lines for me in Gondor. Everyone just bows and gets the HELL out of my way. I miss Gondor. In Gondor, I'm not much, but at least I don't have to wait in line. It's a small improvement.

Welcome back the the land where just about everybody is a nobody, Kayli. Get used to it.

I start jingling change in my pockets, staring with great disinterest at the back of the guy in front of me's head. I hate America.

I get to the front of the line, and rent the biggest SVU you can legally drive without a bus license. I also get the full insurance package, 'cause hey, Dumbledore's paying the bill. Besides, with this bunch, I just might need it.

I smile politely, pocket my license, nod at the stoned clerk's vacant pleasantries, and bail.

"Kayli?"

I turn, automatically, just like anyone does whenever someone says their name.

There, standing not five feet in front of me, is someone very familiar. He has the same blue-green eyes I do, and brown hair that doesn't quite seem to ever do what he wants it to. His eyes are slightly magnified by the cute little glasses he wears, but it's him. Oh, God, it's my brother.

"Kayli?" he says again, sounding like he was just clipped with Sam's Frying Pan of DOOM, and I do the only thing I can think of.

I turn, walk away, and don't look back. I keep my head down until I'm with the others, clutching the keys to the rental car so hard in my hand I know there are going to imprints there when i manage to unclench my fist. I hear him call my name again, and I panic.

I grab Legolas's arm on my way past our merry crew, and start dragging them towards the big sign that says "HERTZ." A clue, Sherlock.

We standing right outside, next to the giant Ford Explorer I'm renting, before Legolas manages to get a firm enough grip to bring me to a screeching halt.

Without warning, I turn, and burrow into him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry and Ron exchange panicked glances. Hermione shoves her book and Ron, blindly --good way to tell she's worried, when she doesn't give a damn about what happens to a book -- and hurries over, stroking my hair worriedly.

"Love?" Legolas says softly. "Are you all right?"

I shake my head frantically. I'm not crying, dammit. I'm not. It's just...

God. I didn't know how much I'd missed the punk until I saw him, you know?

Thranduil steps forward, gently moves Hermione off to one side, and tugs me out of Legolas's arms. He puts one hand under my chin and tilts my face up so he can see me. "What's wrong?" he asks, very gently, wiping the tears off my face.

All right, so maybe I was crying. Just a little.

I sniffle and wipe my nose on my sleeve. "I saw my brother," I mutter. "Look, it's not a big deal. I just...I haven't seen him, and he must think I ran away and joined the circus, or something, I mean, LOOK at this crew..."

"HEY!" Harry and Ron say, at the same time.

Elladan laughs.

I bury my face in my hands and start to cry for real. "I just...I missed him, and I didn't even know it, and GOD, I just poofed one day, what must my MOM be thinking?"

Thranduil tugs me forward, and I bury my face in his chest and just let him hold me, like my Dad used to, and that thought brings on another spate of hysterics.

God, I hate being a weepy little woman.

He strokes my hair until I quiet down, and pull away, looking embarassed. I wipe my eyes and my nose on my sleeve, automatically reverting back to third grade. "Let's get the hell out of here, huh?"

Elrohir steps forward. "Kayli, are you certain --"

"'Ro," I say, trying to be firm, "not trying to be bitchy, I love you to death, but just butt the fuck out for right now, OK? I'm not stable, and if you're nice to me, I'm gonna cry again, and I HATE to cry. I hate to cry more than I hate Orcs. So please...just..." I sniffle, and hide my face behind my elbow. "Just let me calm down, all right?"

Elrohir sighs, and kisses my cheek. "Yes, mellon. But..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Reasoning with this woman is like trying to stop Anor from rising," he says, to no one in particular. "Forget I spoke, Kayli. I would not upset your for all the world."

I manage a slightly sniffly smile, and we all pile into the ... vehicle.

Driving it is going to be like driving the Titanic. Dude, when I was here last, I drove a fuckin' Escort, all right? They are NOT big cars.

Eeep.

Wish me luck. Please, Valar, don't let me crash.

-- Harry --

You know, sometimes it's really easy to forget that Kayli is as human and affectable and emotional as...well, most of the rest of us.

Although the human part does not apply to about half of our Merry Band.

The little breakdown at the airport...I don't suppose it was really all THAT weird, if you think about it. I mean, she must have missed her family like crazy. And she did just kind of disappear. So, naturally, she's going to panic, and think that her family must think that she just deserted them. Because, honestly, she's not being held prisoner. What IS her family supposed to think?

Although, looking at her, you wouldn't know she'd been having hysterics not twenty minutes ago. Not that she's calm. By no stretch of the imagination would I call this calm. She's road rage personified. She has -- so far, at least -- honked her horn, waved her middle finger at passing drivers, and called them all sorts of crude and anatomically insulting names.

Some of the things she's suggested are anatomically impossible. I think. Remember, I'm only fifteen.

Legolas is riding in the front with her. Behind them it's me, Ron, and Hermione, and King Thranduil is riding in the back with the twins. He's staring out the window, and about twenty minutes into the trip his eyes just sort of glaze over.

Holy hell, I think he's asleep.

Ron and I play tic tac toe for awhile, and then Hermione joins in and we end up playing about two and a half hours of hangman. Kayli is sitting up front, singing along with some of what's on the radio -- mostly country, with some oldies scattered in. I recognize the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones. We had a neighbor who was into the oldies. Uncle Vernon hated him. Apparently, rock and roll -- even the older stuff -- sucks all your morals out your ears, or something.

Behind us, Elladan and Elrohir are having a quiet conversation in Elvish.Eventually, they taper off into silence, and a few minutes later Elladan is watching our hangman games over our shoulders.

"All right, kids," Kayli says. "We've hit St. Cloud. What the hell now?"

Hermione whips out her map, nearly smacking Ron across the face. "We take Highway...10 to a place called Royalton...and turn off onto County Road 26."

She nods, changing lanes, seemingly without checking if anyones coming. Ron squeezes his eyes shut. Her driving kind of scares him.

I must have fallen asleep for a while, because the next thing I now, Ron is shaking my shoulder. "Wake up, mate.We're almost there."

I sit up, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes. Hermione scoots forward, looking intently over Kayli's shoulder. "How will we know what it looks like?" she asks nervously.

"Perhaps the large castle?" Legolas suggests drily.

Well, if you're going to obvious about it. Kayli simply nods. "Hey, a parking lot. A teeny one, but still a parking lot. The wizards of the future." She rakes a hand through her hair and pulls into the lot. "You know, I lived not two miles from here for almost two years. And I don't remember there being a castle here."

"Well, it's a magical castle," Elladan says from behind us.

Kayli makes a face in the rearview. "Duh."

We all pile out of the car, and start stretching out the kinks from a three hour car drive and nine hour plane trip.

There's a girl hurrying across the school lawn towards us. She has long, sort of curly brown hair and a butterfly tattoo on her upper arm. She is dressed entirely in Muggle clothes.

What an odd place this is. I mean, a wizarding school with a parking lot? Dumbledore did say that American wizarding culture was a lot closer to the Muggle one, but I didn't know he meant THIS close. She steps forward and holds out a hand to Kayli. "Hi. I'm Melody Johnson. I'm a teacher. And you would be one of the teachers from Hogwarts."

Kayli blinks at her. "Uh. Yeah. Hi. Kayli."

Professor Johnson just kind of blinks at her. "Oh." She blinks. She turns, looks at Legolas, and turns the smile up to full force. "Hello."

Legolas puts an arm around Kayli's shoulders. "Hello."

Thranduil coughs lightly. He looks amused. Ron and Hermione look at each other, and laugh.

She blushes slightly, and laughs. "I'm sorry. I'm easily distracted."

"Uh-huh," Kayli says. "Don't worry. It happens all the time." She sends Legolas a look out of the corner of her eye. He laughs and kisses her quickly.

Melody grins at them, then turns to look at us. "Well, well." She stares at me for a long second, her eyes automatically going to my scar. I reach up and try to press my bangs down. But, as Kayli has told me, some things are just a lost cause from the beginning. She grins at me, and holds out a hand. "Sorry. Welcome to Ravenscar, Mr. Potter."

I shake her hand quickly and take a step back. "Uh, thanks." I turn quickly to Ron and Hermione. "These are my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

She shakes there hands, then turns and beams at the rest of the group. I don't even think she's seen Gimli. She doesn't seem to be looking that low. "Well, then. Shall we?"

Oh, boy. Just what I always wanted. To be stared at by a bunch of Americans.

Some of this is gonna suck.

TBC...


	20. Ah, To Be Young ish and In Love

-- Elrohir --

This is a strange place. It even makes Hogwarts seem normal.

And the teacher who greeted us when we arrived seems to be quite smitten with my brother. Well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose.

Kayli is currently deeply involved in a conversation with the Headmaster of this school, a dignified woman with long black hair. One of her teachers, a young woman who answers only to 'Melody' is currently eyeing Elladan like he's a drink of water after a travel through Mordor.

It's amusing, to say the least.

The way I understand it, the basic purpose of the trips is to deepen the relationship between the magical communities of these two kingdoms. The Headmaster of this school is close to their Minister of Magic, and Harry being here is to help his people fight their Dark Lord.

Dark Lord. How original.

I lean back against the wall, watching the byplay between Elladan and Melody. She flirts, smiles, teases, does everything but bat her lashes and blush. Of course, blushing isn't really on this young lady's list of things to do. She is far too confident, too self-assured, for anything like that.

I shake my head. I have a feeling this is going to be a long trip.

-- Kayli --

"You're sure?" Harry asks, wringing his hands.

Professor Marks, the Headmaster – well, Headmistress – smiles sadly and nods. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," she says regretfully. "He refuses to see you, and he won't answer Albus's letters. He says this is none of our concern."

"What does he think Voldemort's gonna do if he manages to get to be Grand High Poo-bah over in England? Send Christmas cards and just let you all go on your merry little way?" I ask.

She sighs. "Honestly, miss, I have no idea," she replies. "I don't agree with him. Voldemort is a threat to the international magical community, and the Muggle one, not just that in England. I'll work on convincing him."

I nod. "In that case, we're going to head down to our rooms. These kids need to bed down for a while. Harry's starting to look a little tired."

Harry manages a smile. "A little? I'm knackered."

I laugh at the phrasing. I can't help it. Come on, who actually says 'knackered?'

We get the kids settled in, and I head back to the room I'm sharing with Legolas. We're stuck between the twins and his father, not a great place to be. This means we get to listen to the twins bicker until all hours of the freakin' morning. Here's hoping this joint has thick walls.

Legolas is already there, standing by the window and watching the trees. He immediately turns to me, concern written all over his face. "Melisse? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, love," I say softly. "Don't worry."

He frowns. "I don't like to see you hurt." He quickly turns his face away, staring back out the window. "Melisse, if you miss your family…when we find a way back to Middle-Earth, I would not be angry if you remained."

I stop, and stare at the back of his head. "I can't stay here, Legolas," I say finally. "I mean, yeah, I miss my family like crazy, and I love them to death, and I will always – _always – _miss them, but I can't stay here. I don't belong here anymore. What would I do? There's no place for someone like me in this world, not anymore."

He turns and looks at me. Then he smiles slightly and reaches out, caressing the side of my face, tracing the scar there. "If you say so, melisse. I think, if you wanted, you could make a home anywhere. You are a remarkable resourceful woman. But I do not know enough of this world to tell you that you are wrong. Please…do not make this decision because of me. Make this one for yourself."

I touch his hand. "Being with you is for me," I reply. "And for my family. And for you. Do you love me?"

"Yes," he murmurs. "Valar, yes. I've never loved anything more."

"And I love you," I reply. "I love my brothers, and I love my King, and I love Gondor. I even love the twins, crazy as they are. I can't leave that. I can't. Not even for my family. I know I'm needed there. They'll…they'll make it without me."

He tugs me into his arms and buries his face in my hair. "I love you, melisse," he says softly. "I swear, I will do everything I can to make you happy, for the rest of our time together."

I tilt my head up and kiss him. "I love you, too. And right back atcha."

TBC…

I love you all. Please don't hate me.


	21. Teeth, Wolves, & Politicians, Oh My!

-- Kayli --

Oh, dear God.

It was on our agenda to drop by the Minister of Magic's office in St. Paul today. Yes, the center of the magical community in the United States is St. Paul. Why, I have no idea. Maybe because it's sort of in the middle of the country?

Well, apparently someone beat us to him.

I carefully crouch down next to the body, automatically checking for a pulse, even though there's no way he's alive. He's more…in pieces. He looks like he was torn apart by a wild animal.

Behind me, Harry makes a choked sound, and Hermione says, her voice clear and even, "excuse me, I think I'm going to vomit."

Gotta love the British.

My stomach's fine. I've seen worse. Having the occasional severed head thrown at you will toughen up your stomach in a hurry, believe me. I lean closer to the body, carefully breathing through my mouth so that I don't have to smell him. He's probably been dead about a day, I reckon, but somebody thoughtfully left the heat off, so the body's frozen.

Winter in Minnesota. Brr. Kinda makes me feel stupid for bitching about Caradhras. That was a vacation, compared to this. Well, except for entering Moria, and the 'fell voice' and nearly getting hit by rocks.

On second thought, I don't feel stupid for bitching about Caradhras. Actually, I feel pretty justified.

Legolas crouches next to me, examining the teeth marks on one ...bit. "If I didn't know better, I would say that this was the work of a warg," he says softly. "The teeth -- they are not those of an ordinary wolf."

I shake my head. "Jaw's too long," I reply. "Just too damn big, really. But check this out," I add, and poke the dead man's shoulder. "These, here, on the one shoulder. They almost look human."

Legolas looks thoroughly revolted.

I nod. "Yeah. So...not a warg, not a wolf. Werewolf."

"Aye," he murmurs. "Are such creatures truly so common here?"

I shrug helplessly. "Love, I ain't got the foggiest. I mean, I don't even know who to ask."

Harry swallows hard. "Is there some way we can contact Remus?"

I look up at him and shrug. "I have no idea. Why?"

"Remus is a werewolf."

I blink. "Oh. That explains the vibes."

Legolas nods. "Aye."

Harry blinks. "Vibes?"

I poke at another bit, checking out the bite -- this one looks about half-transformed. It's sad when somebody can be an expert on teethmarks and not be either an anthropologist or a crime scene investigator. Wargs and Orcs, man, Wargs and Orcs. "He just gives off a funny feeling, that's all. Like he's not completely human."

His eyes narrow. "Remus _is_ human."

"Yeah," I reply. "That's why he turns into a wolf once a fucking month." I stand up and shake my head. "Forget it. Let's go back to the Headmistress and tell her what's happening."

It takes us about fifteen minutes to get back to the school, since we take the Floo Network. And that's not funky _at all._

The Headmistress meets us in front of the fire. "You look troubled," she says immediately. "What happened?"

"Don't bank on the Minister backing you," I say dryly. "He's...let's just say he's not in the running anymore."

Her face goes pale. "Dead?"

Hermione nods. She's still a little green around the gills. "Yes."

"Very dead," Ron chimes in. "Extremely dead. The deadest person I ever saw."

"How?" she asks. "The Killing Curse?"

"I don't know what that is," I say, feeling pretty tired myself. "But unless it's very messy and has teeth, no."

I swear, she goes even paler. "Teeth?"

I nod. "Yeah. From what we could see of the bites, it was either more than one, or something that underwent a transformation. I'm leaning towards the second one, because you could see the variations in the bites. Longer teeth, elongated jaw."

"A werewolf!" the Headmistress exclaims. "Surely you're not serious! There aren't any of those...those creatures around here."

"How do you know?" I counter. "They look human most of the time, funky vibes or not. Unless you happen to catch one on a full moon, I don't know how you'd tell, unless they told you. Which is why we need to contact a friend of ours back at Hogwarts."

She glares. "There is a Werewolf Registry at the Ministry," she says, all snooty now. "Any one who is a werewolf is required to register."

"Right," I mutter. "Let's make their lives more difficult because they're fucking cursed. Great. Can we use whatever the magical version of a phone happens to be, please?"

She glares at us, but leads us to a fireplace without another word.

All right, this is just _beyond_ funky. His _head_ is _in_ the fire. _In_ the _fire_.

Wacky.

He blinks those funky eyes at us. "Harry? What is it?"

Harry shakes his head and looks at me. "I, uh, don't exactly know what to ask," he admits.

I nod and kneel down next to him. "The American Minister of Magic had an accident," I say, as dryly as possible. "An accident that involved something with lots of teeth."

He frowns. "There are a great many magical creatures that will eat a human if they're commanded to, or if they're kept hungry enough," he says.

"How many of them change shape?"

His face goes pale. I think, anyway. It's hard to tell if someone's pale when it looks like their head's on fire. "Only one."

I nod. "Does the local Big Bad have any of those ones?"

He looks thoughtful. "The only one I can think of -- right off-hand -- would be Fenrir Grayback," he says. "And if he's there, you need to be extremely careful."

"I take it he's not a nice guy."

Remus shakes his head. "No. He has...he tends to hunt the younger ones. Says their meat is ...well, he says..."

"The younger the meat, the more tender," I finish.

He nods.

"Bleck."

"So he hunts children," Legolas says, managing to put worlds of disgust in that one sentence. Good for you, honey.

Remus nods again.

I sigh. "All right. So, what we have is an extremely violent werewolf Death Eater with a penchant for little boys. Beautiful."

"That sounds...horrifically wrong," Hermione says.

"I thought it fit," I mutter. "Have you ever seen this guy, Remus?"

He hesitates, then nods. "Yes." He looks pained for a moment. I look back over my shoulder at the Headmistress.

"Would you excuse us, please?"

She looks offended. Yeah, I almost care. Without a word, she turns he back and stalks out.

Harry mutters something uncomplimentary under his breath.

"What did he just say?" Remus asks, looking confused.

"Something that he picked up from the twins, undoubtedly," I say, and give Harry a harsh look. "Something he's not gonna say again. Got it?"

Harry blushes and nods. "Sorry," he mutters.

"Anyway," I say, and lean forward. "Greyback. What's the story?"

"He considers it his mission to ...convert as many as possible," he says.

"To make them werewolves," I say.

He nods. "Yes. It's his goal to infect as many as he can. He prefers children, but he'll attack anyone. He's also...a bit cannibalistic."

"Ew," I say. "Not surprising, but gross."

He nods again, still pale. "He's used as a threat," he admits. "Against anyone who doesn't cooperate, either with him or with Voldemort."

"Scumbag," Ron says.

"Scumbag deluxe," I agree. "Scary guy with funky vibes. We'll keep our eyes open."

"Be careful," Remus says, his face very serious. "I mean it, Harry."

"I will be," he says. "I promise."

I ruffle Harry's hair and stand up. "We'll keep an eye on him," I say. "Legolas, we need to go talk to the Headmistress."

We leave Harry, Hermione, and Ron to say goodbye to Remus, or whatever.

"Well?" Legolas asks softly, when we're more or less out of earshot. "What did you hear that I did not?"

"Huh? Oh. Nothing important. Just the general vibes, you know."

"No, melisse, I do not."

"For somebody who avoids werewolves, he seemed to know an awful lot about Greyback."

Legolas nods. "Aye. 'Twas undoubtedly he who passed the curse on to Remus."

"See? I didn't hear anything you didn't."

"Then why do we need to speak to the Headmistress?" he asks, very calmly.

"We need to warn her this Greyback dude's around." I rake my hands back through my hair and blow out a frustrated breath. "If he's half as bad as Remus says he is -- and I got the sneaky suspicion he's a lot worse -- then we definitely need to warn them."

"Aye."

"Besides, maybe she'll know what the hell we're supposed to do next."

TBC...


	22. Plots, Plots, Plots!

--Kayli --

We find the Headmistress in her office.

She does not like me. Ah, well.

Yeah. I care. I care _whole_ lots.

Besides, if what Remus said is right, we have way bigger things to worry about than whether or not the Headmistress likes me.

If Remus is right, and Greyback is lose in the great state of Minnie-snowta, we have way bigger things to worry about than a snooty Headmistress. In fact, I would say we have bigger things to worry about than getting home.

You didn't hear that from me, however. If what I'm currently thinking about Legolas and Thranduil is right, than we _don't_ have any bigger concerns than getting home. Because they're Elves. And if they start to pine...

So....if I'm right, _and_ Remus is right, we're fucked.

Yay?

She glares at us. "Yes?"

I plop down in a chair without waiting for an invitation. "According to our contact in England, we may know who was responsible for the Minister's death. He says that he only knows of one werewolf who will eat flesh. That he knows of."

"And I'm assuming your _contact_ is a werewolf?" she asks, all snooty.

"Our contact is our business," I reply evenly. "Ever heard of Fenrir Greyback?"

She goes beyond pale, and then beyond pasty. Right after that she turns grey, little green around the edges, and looks like she's going to puke, faint, or both.

I'm gonna take that as a yes.

"You don't mean to say...Greyback...._here_?" she manages.

I shrug. "It's possible. As far as our contact was able to tell us, there's only one magical creature that can change shape. And if this creature works on it enough, could they change shape at will?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. But...it doesn't matter. Last night was the full moon."

I swear. "Of course it was. Duh."

Harry shifts behind us and clears his throat. "At the beginning of the year...well, I was hanging about in Diagon Alley, you see, with everyone...and, well, I saw Malfoy."

"And who the hell is Malfoy?" I ask. "Wait. Tall skinny kid, pointy face, stupid French name?"

He smiles a little, and nods. "He was talking to one of the shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley."

I frown. "I thought you said you were in Diagon Alley, which I'm assuming is kid-approved? And question number two, why were you in Knockturn Alley, which from what I've heard is not exactly friendly?"

He actually blushes a little, and looks at his feet. "Well, I followed him."

I groan. "Jesus, Harry, why?"

He looks a little miffed. "I got his father locked up last year. I thought maybe he was planning something to get back at me, or maybe at Dumbledore. And his mum isn't friendly either."

"I don't imagine a happy person could have spawned that kid. Anyway. Shopkeeper. Knockturn Alley."

"Yeah, Borgin and Burkes. They were talking about how Borgin had to help him, or whoever, and...well, he showed him something. Something on his left arm."

I sit up straight. "Come on, Harry. No way. No fucking way."

"What, melisse?" Legolas asks sharply.

"Miss Peters! Language!" the Headmistress snaps. "And what could have possibly been on this young man's arm?"

"You're American," I reply, almost bleakly. "You wouldn't have had a lot of contact with Vo --" she hisses "-- all right, all right, Mr. Big And Scary, during the war, right? Well, I'm sure you've heard he brands his followers. Always on the left arm."

She looks at me sharply. "How old is this boy you're talking about?"

I shrug. "Sixteen, seventeen?"

"Sixteen," Harry replies. "Same age as me."

"There is _no way_ Vold --" Another hiss from the Headmistress. "Christ Jesus, what is _wrong_ with you people? It's just a fucking name! Anyway, yeah, Mr Cloak and Dagger, there is no way he'd trust a kid with anything important. Even a teenager. Shit, he'd probably trust a younger kid more easily. You teenagers are a bunch of ticking time bombs stuffed full of hormones. About as reliable as a pickpocket in Tiffany's. You really think he'd give Draco a mission of any real _importance?_"

"Maybe he doesn't expect him to succeed. Maybe it's a punishment. For his failure." He clears his throat. "For his father's failure. See, the whole thing at the Ministry, Voldemort -- " the Headmistress shudders, and Harry repeats the name, more firmly -- "_Voldemort_ was after a prophecy, one made about me and him. And it broke before Malfoy's dad and the others could get it, so...he never got to hear what was inside."

"But you did, didn't you?" Legolas asks, looking at Harry with that creepy look Elves get, the one that says not only can they see through you, they can see _into_ you, into the deepest, darkest parts of you where you hide everything you don't want the world to see.

I hate that look. Galadriel does it the best, Elrond and Celeborn tied for second, and Thranduil in a close third, but Legolas is no slouch.

Harry's bright green eyes slide toward the Headmistress for a second, then look back at us. "Just a few words, not enough to make any sense of," he replies, almost smooth enough to be believable. "But he can't punish Lucius -- he's in Azkaban. Maybe he's doing the next best thing and punishing his son."

"The sins of the father," I mutter. "Fucking wonderful guy. Anyway, Harry, was there a point to this little spin down Memory Lane?"

He nods. "Yeah. When Malfoy was in Borgin and Burkes, one other thing he said to convince the shopkeeper -- he told him that Fenrir Greyback was a close personal friend of the Malfoy family."

I lean back in my chair to think. "How long a range can a Portkey have?" I ask.

The Headmistress straightens, probably thrilled to get a question she can answer. "Anywhere in the world. They're easier to make for shorter distances, of course, but a suitably skilled witch or wizard can have any work to anywhere. Side-Along Apparition would be easier, of course."

"Why?" Harry asks, obviously confused.

"Because maybe somebody can pop back to England and ask Mr. Malfoy nicely if he's seen Greyback recently."

"Why do I have a feeling you don't really mean to ask him nicely?" the Headmistress asks tiredly.

"I will ask nicely," I reply. "The first time. After that, I'll get a little testy." I shrug. "I'll talk to Dumbledore first, though." I turn and look at Legolas. "I'm gonna want you there when I talk to Dumbledore, though."

Harry frowns at me. "Why?"

My God, doesn't that stop being their favorite question at some point? Like at six or seven? "Because."

Harry's eyes narrow, and I force myself to remember that Harry isn't your typical teenager. "Because I don't think he's telling us everything he knows, and that pisses me off, OK?"

"That's for Dumbledore to decide, what we do and don't need to know," Harry argues.

"Your loyalty is admirable," Legolas murmurs.

"Admirable, and well-placed," I agree. "But it's for Dumbledore to decide what _you_ need to know and don't need to know. If I find out he's not told us something that could bite me in the ass, I'm going to walk out that door and hitch my own ride home. Until I know for sure, I'm not doing any more work for him."

He glares at me. "Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

I stare at him. "I'm not a schoolkid, and I don't need to be protected."

"Neither do I!"

I sigh. "Harry, don't argue, just do what I tell you."

"I'm old enough to know what's going on!"

I nod. "Yeah, that's my argument, too. Let's see how it works for me on Dumbledore, huh?"

-- break --

We hitch a Portkey back to Hogwarts, and are let straight in to see Dumbledore, which somehow doesn't surprise me. Remus is with him, which doesn't surprise me either.

I'm not that easily surprised, at this point.

"OK," I say, kicking the door shut behind me. Snape arches an eyebrow from next to the fire. "I want answers. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know pretty much right now." I point at Dumbledore. "Look, I appreciate the fact that you're trying to protect Harry, 'cause the kid has impulse control problems. I am not seventeen, and _he_ sure as hell isn't seventeen." I jerk a thumb back over my shoulder at Legolas. "So. What is Malfoy up to?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows go up. "He has been attempting all year to try and kill me," he says calmly.

I blink. Not quite what I expected. "Oh." I turn to Snape. "Wait a second. You. You've taken an Unbreakable Oath to finish Draco's task." I spin back to Dumbledore. "Are you seriously telling me this is a _setup_?"

"Melisse?" Legolas says.

"It's all -" I shake my head. "Jesus, Dumbledore, he is seventeen fucking years old!"

"Albus?" Remus says. "What's going on?"

I blow out a breath. "Draco has been ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore. If he isn't a success, Snape will do it, because he has to. He's taken an Unbreakable Oath. Which, since it's called that, I'm assuming causes something really, really horrible to happen if it's broken. This will ensure Snape's place in Voldemort's good graces, making it easier for him to fuck things up from the inside. Am I right?"

"Quite right," Dumbledore replies calmly.

"You're already dying, aren't you?" Legolas asks, surprising all of us.

Well, I'm glad he can speak. I'm in a state of catatonic shock, which isn't normal for me, believe me.

Dumbledore glances at him, then nods. "Yes," he says, and smiles. "They are really very clever. At least this way, my death serves a purpose."

Remus and I just stare at him. Snape is glaring at us.

Legolas seems to think about that. "Yes, I see."

Now we both turn and stare at him.

"It's understandable, melisse."

"It's fucking insane, that's what it is!"

"Perhaps," he said. "But they are at war, love. You cannot expect everything to run smoothly, or as you think it should. Subterfuge is a part of war."

"God, why can't we fight Orcs?" I ask, and drop into a chair.

"'Twas simpler," Legolas agrees.

"All right," I say. "Fine. I don't know anything and he doesn't know anything. We're both clueless. I need to talk to Draco Malfoy."

"I think not," Snape sneers.

"I think so," I retort. "Fenrir Greyback murdered the American Minister of Magic. He's loose in Minnesota. You don't let me in to talk to Malfoy, and I swear to God, every little boy he changes will be on _your_ head, greaseball."

"You think, learning what I've done would make you more polite," Snape sneers.

"Why?" I ask bluntly. "You're a spy. I have a personal loathing of spies, and I don't fucking care which side you're spying for. Besides, you're still an asshole."

Next to me, Remus chokes.

"So," I say cheerfully, "I get to talk to Draco, right?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replies, hiding a smile. "This way."

TBC...


End file.
